Steele Committed
by leiasky
Summary: Ireland. After the lights went out and the series ended they're interrupted - again. This time with a bullet.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes:**

I picked up this beloved series over the holidays and have obsessively watched it a few times now. And I tried to resist but once a plotline works itself into my already muddled brain, everything else grinds to a halt until I get it out.

Which is exactly what happened with this.

I don't write fan fiction any more. I write screenplays now and the transition back to prose was more difficult than I expected it to be.

Thanks to Angie and Pol for the most excellent beta work. Without you, this would be a much shorter and disjointed tale.

Any additional mistakes are mine.

Thanks for reading and if you've enjoyed it - or even hated it, please leave a review.

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**Steele Committed**

**Synopsis**: Ireland. After the lights went out and the series ended they're interrupted - again. This time with a bullet.

* * *

**Prologue**

Steele doused the lights as he backed Laura toward the gigantic bed impossibly dwarfed by the castle's large master bedchamber. Thick, heavy curtains and large wooden blinds kept even the smallest sliver of moonlight at bay and through the heavy door, the shrill ring of the phone they'd agreed to ignore pealed incessantly. Laura clung to him as one of his hands slipped into her hair, while long fingers curled around her neck and held her mouth tightly to his.

Their joined lips parted only when the need for air trumped their desire to finally consummate their lengthy courtship.

When she sank to the mattress, he eagerly followed, a tangle of legs and arms growing more desperate with each breathy kiss.

The gasp when his hand slipped around her slender waist and drew her tight against him brought raging lust to new heights.

Through the haze of desire, he could hear muted voices but was increasingly distracted by the small hands burrowing ever so confidently beneath his jumper. His own followed a similar path until they reached a barrier he'd long been able to snick apart with ease. Nimble, dexterous fingers found the clasp and tugged, just as the voices below grew nearly impossible to ignore.

He groaned in frustration but a breathless plea for him to ignore the commotion was the only encouragement he needed to release the clasp.

Her small body pressed intimately close, every soft curve melted into hard, solid muscle. Overwhelming hunger threatened to shred his already threadbare nerves and when she slipped a knee between his legs he quickly rolled them over and pinned her to the bed.

Intense want such as he'd never witnessed before, swam in her eyes and he was swept along the white-watered tide. When her fingers reached his belt, an echoing crash from below parted their lips with a reluctant pop.

"Bloody hell!" Steele grunted as he glanced back toward the closed door.

"The natives can't be restless already," Laura muttered, exasperated air puffing against his neck where her lips rested against his skin. The heat between them ebbed but the determination in her eyes threatened to flare it to white hot steam if he didn't get up right now and deal with the ill-timed interruption.

"The Irish never need a reason to party. And I gave them the bloody castle. They should be out past sunrise," he growled none to happily.

Another crash had him leaping out of bed, a murderous look on his normally boisterous face. He didn't even bother to smooth his clothing before he yanked open the door and stomped down the hallway.

* * *

From the balcony, Steele surveyed the confrontation below. Mikeline stood protectively at the base of the elegant staircase, a frazzled Mildred beside him. The butler, chauffeur and maid all stood glaring at an unkempt man standing just inside the closed entry.

"What in the bloody blazes is going on down there? You're making enough racket to call a Bandh Sdhee. And as this is a particularly special evening, I'd rather the harbinger of death not call on my doorstep tonight! "

"Oh, it's nothin', Your Lordship," Mikeline said quickly, his accent thickening with every word. "He was just leavin', he was."

The unkempt man pointed a crooked and filthy finger at Steele. "You!"

"Me?" Steele asked, eyebrow quirked. Laura's delicate hand rested on his back as he exchanged a confused glance with her.

"You good as pulled the trigger yerself! Now I'm come to return the favor!" The man swayed as he pulled a gun out of his dingy coat.

The shouts that followed could have eclipsed the wail of a banshee as Mikeline, the chauffeur and the butler launched themselves at the stranger, but they were too far away to prevent him from squeezing the trigger. The maid dove for cover and Mildred cowered at the bottom of the steps, helpless to interfere in a moment which lasted mere seconds. The first shot resonated with echoing finality. Two more quickly followed as stone and plaster burst from the ceiling above the magnificent staircase, their target long missed.

The heat Steele longed to see in Laura's eyes was replaced with intense shock and a distant, muted, horrified scream. His knees buckled as hot, sticky blood filled his hands. And he tasted the growing tang as bile rose in swift response to the sudden intrusion of a foreign object.

He could feel Laura's fingers clutch at his shirt, but he couldn't stabilize his footing and together they tumbled down the steps to the tiled landing in between. The suit of armor displayed in the corner rained down in heavy, muted clangs around his ears.

He met Laura's frantic gaze with a disbelieving one of his own and worked his shock into a solitary breathless word.

"Laura..."

TBC

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	2. Chapter 1

**Notes: ****Thanks to the people that have reviewed. And here I thought no one read fic from this series anymore. Remember, I can't answer reviews if you don't sign in**

**Here's a much lengthier chapter 1. Thanks to Angie and Pol for the beta.**

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**Chapter 1**

He could barely hear Laura's voice, muted, distant, and pleading over the ringing in his ears. Could feel her frantically covering his hands with her own. The scuffle as his staff secured the shooter was even more muffled. But he knew they'd done it. He'd always trusted those closest to him to get the job done. Mildred's harried stomping up the staircase filled his narrowing band of vision. Like an overdramatic dream sequence in one of those absurd television shows Laura liked to watch.

"Boss!"

It took all his strength to merely open his mouth again.

"Shh. Shh. Don't talk. Just breathe. Do you hear me? That's all you need to do. Just breathe."

Laura. He would do anything for her. His eyes slid to her face and his heart did a little flip when he noticed her eyes, distraught, determined, and wet. Felt her hands trembling, searching, frantically clutching his.

"Mildred! Call for help!"

Mildred's worried face darted instantly out of his line of sight but he could hear her impatient demands as she placed an urgent call to what glumly passed for Glen Cree's emergency services. The shrill tone in her voice grew to echoing proportions as she was transferred and transferred again before her voice faded away completely.

He exhaled a shaky breath and focused his slimming vision on his wife, her voice, her touch, her eyes. The pressure on his chest was intense and he resisted the urge to cough. He could smell the lingering scent of her perfume as she leaned close. He had tasted it earlier, too and he longed to feel its sweet tang on his tongue again. Instead, copper pervaded his senses. And pain. A deep, aching, piercing pain. His eyes crossed. His vision dimmed. She pulled him back from the encroaching shadows with a desperate plea.

"Stay awake! Please!"

He gasped for air and he couldn't hold back the cough that burst from his numbing chest. A sharper tang of fresh blood filled his mouth and pain from the sudden jolt made him see speckled stars.

He dimly heard Mildred's not-so-dulcet tone bellow up to them. "They're sending an emergency helicopter from Dublin, Chief!"

He supposed he should be comforted by the fact that someone didn't want the new Lord of Ashford Castle to die on their watch

"Tell them to hurry."

The urgency in Laura's whispered response was all the confirmation he needed, if his body hadn't already provided irrefutable proof of its own, that his condition was serious. He recognized the desperate plea that he was sure didn't come close to reaching Mildred's ears.

He shuddered from the cold, numb lethargy spreading like a narcotic through his body and memories of another cold, pharmaceutical-induced interrogation flooded his disorganized thoughts. All he could remember was Laura slapping him, demanding answers he couldn't give; was too afraid at the time to admit.

His head jerked with the force of the imagined slap. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, slipped closed to regain some sense of confused equilibrium. He exhaled a shuddering breath.

A warm, trembling hand caressed his cheek.

A question, demanding, harsh, piercing. Deserved_. Do you love me?_

Steele felt the answering groan sink deep into his very bones. _I think so._

_The scene shifted to blood-covered hands. How he looked up from where he lay atop a soft bed to find Laura yanking up his shirt, pressing a towel to his bloody abdomen._

_London._

_He'd been hurt there, too. In search of his name. His real name. Something, to this very day, he didn't even have. And probably never would._

_Time flowed in flashbacks too numerous to track. His past, before he met Laura, fraught with danger but never had he sustained so many bloody wounds until he had assumed the name of Remington Steele._

The whirring sound of the approaching helicopter and Laura's desperate crooning pulled him from the unwelcome recollection. Realities were colliding in his addled mind and he didn't know which one was real. He clutched her hand and worked his lips around those words he had felt for longer than, until recently, he'd been prepared to admit.

"Shh. Please. Don't speak."

But it was time. Past time, really. He took a deep, shuddering breath but her finger on his lips interrupted whatever he'd been prepared, at long last, to say.

A wet cough bubbled up despite his best effort to stop it and his eyes scrunched closed as the pain of a thousand needles radiated from his chest. His vision darkened just as emergency responders burst through the front entry and raced up the steps.

* * *

Laura numbly watched as the medical personnel crowded onto the narrow landing, ripped off her husband's sweater and applied pressure to the grisly wound. She glanced passively at her own hands, slick with blood and felt the sting of unshed tears fill her eyes.

She was pushed to the side, down the steps, and was dimly grateful when she felt Mildred's supporting arm wrap tightly around her shoulders.

"Come on, hon. We gotta let them work."

Laura felt her heart plummet to her toes when a technician's head snapped up. "He's arrestin'! I need an AED, stat!"

"Oh God," Laura sobbed as Mildred tugged her further down the stairs.

"We don't need to watch that, honey. They've got him."

Laura was unable to alleviate her growing unease as she found despair mirrored in her dear friend's eyes. After a few tense, time-stopping minutes, his unresponsive body was lifted onto a stretcher and carried down the stairs.

She tried to pull away but Mildred held on tight. "I have to go with them, Mildred." Frustrated, the next words came out as a demand. "Let me go."

A passing emergency responder laden with bags shook his head, "We don't have no room, your ladyship."

But Laura didn't hear him. She followed anyway until Mildred stopped her. "There's no room, honey. We'll-"

Mikeline was suddenly at her side. "We'll get ya there, your ladyship."

Laura, Mildred, Mikeline and the rest of the castle staff stood in utter silence, watching numbly as the helicopter vanished into the thick shadowy Irish mist.

Mildred hurried to the Rolls with Laura in tow and the chauffeur quickly opened the door. Laura felt herself being pushed inside and then over as Mildred scuttled in right behind her.

Laura dimly heard Mikeline assuring her that he'd take care of _that blisterin' bugger_ and then they were off.

But by the time Laura's frazzled brain could piece together what he meant, Mildred filled in the missing detail. "Mikeline's gonna stay behind and brief the constable."

Laura acknowledged Mildred with a barely perceptible nod and slumped against the seat, eyes staring vacantly out the window.

Mildred patted her hand. "He'll be okay, honey."

Mildred's unwavering confidence had always been a lifeline in hopeless situations but Laura could hear the quiver in the older woman's voice and it did nothing to abate her growing desperation and sense of dread.

"I can't lose him now, Mildred."

"Won't happen."

Laura forced a sad smile and clutched Mildred's hand tightly. They rode in silence the rest of the way to Dublin.

* * *

Mildred's short legs lagged behind as Laura, covered in blood, marched right up to the admissions desk at the emergency ward of the Royal City of Dublin hospital. "My husband was brought in under an hour ago. Gunshot wound. Where is he?"

An attendant with a wheelchair stopped beside her. "Ma'am if you'll sit here, I'll take you to be-"

"She's not hurt!" Mildred exclaimed with a glare at the attendant. "It's Mr. Ste - er, her husband's blood."

"Where is he?" Laura repeated, and Mildred recognized the demanding tone giving way to desperate by the second. "Remington Steele. He was flown in from Ashford Castle."

The young woman's eyes widened. "Oh!" She yanked the phone off its cradle and made a call.

A uniformed garda entered through a non-descript door and motioned to Laura. "If you be followin' me, ma'am. I'll be takin' ya back."

Mildred trailed her charge as they followed the officer through a winding mass of sterile hallways and into a small ICU waiting room.

"You got a bathroom?" Mildred asked the guarda. She pointedly glanced at the splotches of dried blood that littered her clothes and covered Laura's.

The guarda pointed to a doorway at the end of the room. "Loo's in there. Lots of room for you ta be washin' up. "

By the time Mildred had maneuvered Laura into the good sized bathroom, she'd shaken herself out of her funk. She scrubbed the blood off her skin with a determined vigor, set her jaw and met the older woman's eyes in the mirror.

"I need a birth certificate for him, Mildred," Laura said as she swept off her bloodied sweater and tossed it in the bin. With trembling hands she reached beneath the thin turtleneck and refastened the clasp of her bra. "Call the defense ministry in London. His father died a national hero. They can fabricate something if they can't track down the real thing. We have that letter that we found in Daniel's case yesterday if they need proof."

Mildred recognized the growing signs. Laura always had to stay busy when faced with an onslaught of emotion. She'd seen it too many times. "Don't you worry. Krebs'll get it done."

Laura desperately scrubbed at her pants but only succeeded in diluting the deep burgundy into a smeared dull red. "I can't-"

"I'll find ya some clothes, honey."

When the blur of motion suddenly stopped, Mildred watched helplessly as the younger woman flattened her hands on the sink and heaved a long, deep breath.

"I need to have it, Mildred."

"No one says no to Krebs, Miss Holt- er, Steele." Mildred flushed with embarrassment. She should be able to get it right. Even if the _kids_ hadn't figured it out yet. She tried to laugh her mistake off with a shrug. "Sorry. Haven't gotten used to it yet."

Laura whirled, eyes hard and determined, her lips trembling with restrained emotion. Her voice shook as she explained. "I have to have a birth certificate for him, Mildred. Before - before I have to sign his death -"

"Now you stop right there." Mildred drew herself to her full height, imagining herself in the role of an affronted Queen. She used everything in her considerable repertoire to keep Laura from hearing the wobble of uncertainty and fear in her voice. She took the distraught woman's hands, squeezed them tightly. "Mr. Steele is gonna be fine. You'll see. And I'll take care of the certificate. So when he gets better, you two can get a license and have the wedding shindig all over again. All on the up and up this time."

For a split second, Mildred thought she'd said the wrong thing, but after a long, long moment of tense silence, a bubble of laugher escaped Laura's trembling lips. And then another. And then another until Mildred found herself embraced tightly in the arms of her surrogate daughter.

"A priest by his bedside would do. So long as his eyes are open and he's talking to me." Laura inhaled deeply and glanced out the bathroom window. "I'd even learn the Gaelic words. Can't be that hard. He'd probably love it."

Mildred smoothed Laura's hair and gave her a warm, slow smile. "Oh. You need more than that, honey. You need a nice, long, relaxing, uninterrupted honeymoon."

A voice so sad and somber sent chills down Mildred's spine. "From your lips to God's ears, Mildred."

When they walked out of the bathroom, the room was empty. No guarda, no doctors, no nurses.

Mildred guided her charge to a chair and they sat down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Mildred could only watch helplessly as the adrenaline from the past few hours wore off, leaving behind an exhausted and temperamental Laura in its wake. She sat calmly for a while, staring out the window at the street below, bustling with the comings and goings of a multitude of ambulances.

But after a while, restlessness seeped through the exhaustion and it was all Mildred could do to keep the distraught woman from marching right out of the ICU waiting room and demanding information.

When she began to pace, Mildred knew it was the beginning of the end.

"Where are they?" Laura demanded, dark circles standing out more vividly against her bloodshot eyes. "Why haven't they come to brief us?"

"Maybe they do things differently here?" Mildred offered helpfully, wondering how she would keep the distraught woman from verbally filleting the first doctor to walk in the door.

"That's ridiculous."

When a stout, grey-haired doctor finally walked in the room, Laura had worked herself into such a worried frenzy that Mildred had to step between them.

"Where have you been?" Laura demanded as Mildred asked at the same time, "How is he?"

It was clear the man was experienced with such demands and he took the vehemence in the younger woman's tone in stride. "Surgery was successful but his condition is still quite serious."

"Details?"

The doctor hesitated but Mildred gave him a sharp nod and a stern look.

"There was a lot of blood loss. We're still transfusing. We've got him sedated and on a ventilator-"

"He can't breathe on his own?" Mildred thought the normally stoic woman would collapse right then and there.

"Oh, he probably could but we're keeping him under to give his body a chance to heal. If he doesn't have to struggle to breathe, you see, he'll heal all that much faster."

"I see."

The doctor watched on with kind, soulful eyes. "I can tell that you do, your Ladyship."

"When can I see him?" The voice was wavering again, doubt and fear no doubt warring for dominance in her mind. Mildred gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze.

When the doctor smiled, Mildred felt lighter than she had in hours. Seeing Mr. Steele would calm them both. "I'll take you back when you're ready."

"I'm ready now."

They moved toward the door but Mildred felt her way blocked. "I'm sorry, right now we can only accommodate family only. You understand."

An incensed Laura, hands on hips, nostrils flaring, glared at the short, stocky doctor. Mildred, even at her most affronted, could not hold a candle to the enraged woman.

"Mildred is family! She's like a mother to my husband-"

"Well, more like a step-mother," Mildred corrected, rare vanity slipping out at a not particularly opportune time. "Not _quite_ old enough, you see."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Steele, one visitor at a time."

Laura huffed. "Well why didn't you say that the first time?"

Mildred motioned the younger woman toward the door when she hesitated. "Go see him, kiddo. I'll be right here."

Mildred watched Laura school her expression, bury her fear, glare once more at the doctor and stalk down the hallway. With a sigh, she flipped on the small television sitting in the corner and settled in to distract herself.

Instead, plastered across the screen was Mr. Steele's face and a news report that he had been fatally shot in a castle he'd recently inherited from the Lord of Claridge.

TBC

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	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Laura reached the ICU ward, she took a long, deep, steadying breath. With a trembling hand she desperately wished to steady, she pushed into a room filled with a lingering scent of bleach - and death.

As she approached the bed, she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. He was pale, deathly so. And it wasn't as if he had much color to begin with. Not lately anyway. An IV in his arm, tubes in his chest, his neck and his mouth obscured so much of his long, thin frame she felt herself reaching for the reassurance a simple touch of his hand could bring. The skin beneath her fingertips was cold; circulation forced though his body by the whirring of the machines hadn't completely reached the less important extremities.

She clutched his hand in both of hers and stared at his serene face, easily mistaken for simply sleep if it hadn't been for the tube currently breathing for him. The monitors; green and yellow and red lines and numbers blinked and chirped indicating all manner of things she wouldn't understand but found herself trying anyway.

Nurses came in, checked readings and left again. One matronly older woman dragged over a chair and with a kind smile, guided her into it.

"You'll be needin' your strength now. Take a rest. He's not goin' no where."

Mistaking the woman's kindness for a hint that she should wrap up her visit, Laura answered with a firm, "Neither am I."

A knowing smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder made Laura's heart ache. "I know, your Ladyship."

Then Laura was alone again with her thoughts and a litany of might-have-beens. She closed her eyes but was unable to get the image of him lying in a growing pool of blood out of her mind. And when she was finally successful in pushing out the gruesome image, it was only so that it could be replaced by a handsome face riddled with intense pain and a desperate attempt to speak.

She'd placed a finger over his lips in an effort to save him crucial oxygen but alone, amidst the buzz of the machines and the steady whirring of the ventilator, she admitted that it hadn't been solely out of concern. It had been fear. Fear that she knew what he was about to say. She'd seen it in his eyes, in the despairing way they never left her face. He was trying to speak because he didn't think he was going to live.

And she'd stopped him.

Then they'd taken him away.

She closed her eyes against the growing sting and lowered her cheek to their joined hands. Beneath them, the sheet grew damp.

"You can't tell me you love me without giving me the chance to say it back," she whispered through short, stuttering gasps.

Tears leaked from beneath tightly closed eyelids as she felt the tension and adrenaline she'd been running on since the whole ordeal began evaporate. Her breathing evened out and a chilly restless sleep descended like an unexpected dusting of snow on a mid-winters day.

An unknown amount of time later, she woke to Mildred's hand on her shoulder, and a kind, understanding smile on her face.

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. "They let you in." She wasn't surprised. Not a bit.

"No one keeps out Krebbs."

A little huff of amusement was all Laura could muster as she kept one hand twined with her husband's and swiped at her face with the other.

Mildred dragged up a chair and Laura instantly felt more at ease; the other woman's presence a comfort.

"News is saying Miners were to blame. Some old vendetta against the Chief."

Laura nodded ruefully, not at all surprised. "We foiled a plan they'd hatched to kill the Earl of Claridge. Guess this was their chance to get revenge."

"They're sayin' the shot was fatal, too. I'll be happy to correct 'em." Mildred's eyes glistened with glee at the prospect. "But I didn't want to say anything without talking to you first. I even told the docs they couldn't talk to the press or Krebbs'd tan their hides."

"Thank you," Laura whispered, eyes firmly locked on her husband's face.

"And I sent the Rolls back to the castle with instructions to bring a change of clothes. For both of us."

She exhaled a grateful sigh and squeezed the older woman's hand. "Thank you. I don't think I've said it enough." She was drained. Mentally and physically. "There are so many things I haven't said."

"Don't go there, Mrs. S. Not right now."

"If not now, when?" Laura winced at the harshness in her own voice. Anger had replaced the sadness, shock and fear. Anger at her own unwillingness to tell him how she really felt. Anger at his apparent inability to do the same.

She felt Mildred pat her hand. "He knows, honey. He knows."

Laura swallowed thickly. "I don't think he does. I've never - I've never told him."

"Does he look like a guy who needs words?"

A burst of laughter escaped before she could check it. "Oh Mildred, you don't know how right you are. He said that to me once."

"He did?"

"After that Sensitivity Spa fiasco."

A perplexed look spread across the older woman's face. "But you solved that case." A beat of silence passed. "Didn't you?"

Laura hadn't told Mildred about their fight. There were some things she didn't need to know. "Yes. But not before sniping so much at each other I didn't think we'd ever recover."

"You guys seemed okay when you got back."

Laura recognized the leading comment for what it was but she'd already decided to she needed to talk about that nearly disastrous experience, get it off her chest with someone who would listen silently and not judge. "He took me to the beach."

Mildred wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Yeah?"

Laura slapped gently at Mildred's hand. "Oh stop it. Nothing happened. As much as you," she smiled in warm remembrance, "and he, wanted it to."

There was a lengthy silence before Mildred asked. "So what did happen?"

"We'd said some hurtful things to each other. It was a really bad weekend."

"But turned out all right in the end."

Laura envied the ease with which Mildred saw her world and those who revolved around it.

"Eventually."

"Listen, honey. You don't have to-"

Laura squeezed Mildred's hand. "I think I do." She was grateful for the silence as she gathered her thoughts. This next bit was the hardest for her to admit – out loud. Again.

"I told him I didn't need him in my life if he was going to be afraid to make a commitment."

Out of the corner of her eye, Laura could see the older woman wince.

"He was so mad at me. We had this big, fancy room and he slept on the chaise." Her eyes squeezed shut at the memory. It was so clear, even all these months later. "And I had decided that that was the weekend I'd let go of some of my - inhibitions. I should have known how that would work out. We've never been too lucky in our attempts for some alone time." When she opened her eyes, they were fixed on the ventilator. "But it's me who's been afraid to make a commitment. Not him. He's been here all this time. Wanting. Willing. Waiting."

"I think we all know how willing he's been. You too. On occasion." Mildred's suggestive wink went ignored.

"Oh, willing hasn't been the stumbling block - as he so astutely pointed out as I beat him to a pulp with a bataka." Laura snorted ruefully.

"Sounds – fun?"

"An exercise at the spa." An embarrassed blush tinged her cheeks. "We failed spectacularly. Gave the other couples a good show."

She was grateful when Mildred didn't press for more answers. But she felt compelled to continue. It was therapeutic. In a way.

"He hasn't needed words to show how committed he is to me and the agency. His deeds have been enough."

"That they have," Mildred agreed with a soft smile.

"But my fear of abandonment is just so-" Laura broke off, frustrated. "Ingrained."

She could tell the instant Mildred understood what she hadn't said and was grateful, yet again, for having such a sharp woman at her side. One didn't work so closely in their business and not know a lot of personal details. Mildred probably knew more about her bosses than most secretaries but Laura didn't mind so much. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide.

"Because of your father."

"I don't think I've ever seen him so mad – or hurt. He's nothing like my father and here I was, accusing him of being exactly that. All because I was afraid he would just up and leave one day."

"Like your father."

"And Wilson," Laura confirmed with a reproachful huff. Voiced aloud, it seemed foolish. But she couldn't help the paralyzing fear that gripped her at the thought of it happening again. Especially now. When she was in so deep that it would break her if something happened to take Mr. Steele away. "I had nearly four years proof of his commitment. We didn't work it out until the beach." She shook her head, chuckled a bit at the memory. "He admitted words don't come easily to him. In his line of work, he'd learned to judge a person by their deeds instead."

"Sounds just like him."

"Words are so important to me." She thought about it, glanced at the man lying so still in the bed, "or used to be."

"He knows you love him, honey. You don't have to say the words."

"I've been afraid to." Laura gulped back a sob and glanced at the monitor. It hadn't changed. The blinking numbers still indicated a stable heartbeat. "I can't lose him, Mildred. Not now. Not when everything – it was about to work out."

She leaned heavily on the older woman when short, stubby arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "You'll be gettin' on with the honeymoon in no time."

This time, when Mildred wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestively dirty manner, Laura let herself smile and imagine that happy future. Because if she didn't, she was going to break down and cry, and she didn't know if she'd be able to stop.

TBC

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	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mildred and Laura watched as the doctor examined the chart in his hand, moved around the bed and checked various monitors. It had been three days and there had been very little visible change.

"We'll be takin' the tube out shortly."

"Will he wake up soon, then?" Laura asked, heart in her throat. She'd give anything to see him open his eyes.

"We'll gradually lift the sedation. Everyone responds differently."

Laura exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"He's not out of danger, you see. But he's healing as well as can be expected with an injury of this kind." He made notes in the chart. "As serious a chest wound as it is, it were the blood loss that nearly did him in. A few more minutes and –" he trailed off, no doubt because he'd noticed the horrified look on Laura's face. "Anyway, he was very lucky to have your Ladyship by his side." He closed the chart and addressed Laura directly. "The pressure you kept on his chest stemmed the blood loss just enough."

Laura's eyes stung and she barely heard the rest of his revelation. "You saved his life, lass."

She felt Mildred's steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Now, there's an officer outside who'd like to talk to ye."

The women walked out together, the welcome news buoying their steps all the way to the ICU waiting room.

When Laura and Mildred reached the designated area, they were met by a garda waiting just inside. Through the glass they could see a bevy of reporters, all clamoring to get a glimpse and an interview.

"They're still here?" Laura asked as they were shuffled into a vacant office.

"Bloodhounds wanting a statement, no doubt" Mildred shot a scowl at the closed door. "We have been rather close-lipped about the whole thing."

"If you'll take a seat, your Ladyship, won't be but a few minutes." The officer extended his hand. "Me name's Patrick Flynn. Here to take your statement."

"You didn't have enough witnesses readily available at the castle?" Laura asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. She could only imagine what the news reports were saying about a reputable American detective being shot on Irish soil. She supposed she should make an effort to find out so she could release a statement to refute whatever questionable 'facts' they'd uncovered.

"More rounded report if we can get your statement, Mrs. Steele." The man smiled congenially and readied his notepad and pen.

Mildred settled into an uncomfortable chair and rubbed her hands together. "Happy to add a nail to an already riddled coffin, Officer."

Laura sat down slowly. "Where would you like us to start?"

* * *

Laura leaned back and rubbed her eyes as the door snicked shut behind the officer.

"That wasn't as easy as I expected it to be," Mildred offered with a yawn and a stretch. "Or as fun."

"It never is when it's someone you –" Laura trailed off hoping Mildred understood that when she said those words out loud for the first time, someone else needed to be the one to hear them. "Well, it's easier when it's not someone you're close to."

"I understand."

And Laura was sure that she did.

Mildred leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Never one to beat around the bush – and always the one to plow through it, she continued, "Listen, hon, the news of this has probably hit the papers in Los Angeles."

"Probably." Los Angeles was the very last thing on her mind right now.

"Well, shouldn't we have some kind of statement ready? You know – assure Mr. Steele's adoring public that he's still alive and kickin'?"

"Yes, we probably should," Laura said as she stood to make her way back to his side. Make sure he was still alive and kicking. She gasped suddenly and turned wide, horrified eyes on the older woman. "Frances! Mother!" The seat rocked beneath her as she sat down heavily and fumbled with the phone. "Oh God they don't even know about the wedding."

"No one knows about the wedding, Mrs. S."

"Keys did. Gladys Lynch does." Laura dialed quickly and then dropped the phone back into its cradle. "And don't you think it's time we were on a first name basis?"

The astonished look on Mildred's face would have been amusing at any other time. "Oh, I don't think that would be right. Mr. Steele would never-"

"I'm not my husband." She reached across the desk and squeezed Mildred's hand. "It's Laura."

It was too bad she couldn't share in the pure joy that raced across the older woman's face. She was too worried about making that phone call. She checked her watch. "What time is it in Los Angeles?"

Mildred glanced at her own watch. "About six am?"

Laura winced. "She'll be up." She hesitantly lifted the phone and eyed it like the harbinger of loud, disbelieving reproach it would soon be. Slowly, she dialed and while the foreign dial tone buzzed in her ear, Mildred stood.

"I'll take over another office and pick up the Agency's messages, see if I can smooth over some ruffled feathers."

Laura nodded, more grateful than ever that Mildred was here to take care of the mundane tasks she'd made herself so invaluable in accomplishing so adeptly over the last four years. "Let me know if-" she winced as the phone connected. "Hi, Frances."

Mildred gave a little hurried wave slipped out just as the woman on the other end of the phone realized to whom she was speaking.

"Laura!? Oh my God! What's going on? Where are you? We read in the papers- is it true? It can't be true! You would have told us. Wouldn't you? Laura? Say something!"

The decibel level rose high enough that Laura had to hold the phone away from her head until the sound died down to a more manageable level.

With an exasperated huff, Laura interrupted the tirade. "If you'd just be quiet and listen, I will!"

The sudden silence shocked her into wondering if the line had gone dead.

"Now then. Calmly. What have you heard?"

She squeezed her eyes shut as Frances began again. Quieter but no less lengthy.

"The Tribune has run the story for the last two days. Front page of the entertainment section. It's even been a lead story on Spotlight news. No one can get through to the agency. I've tried you at home. No answer. Donald even went to your loft but no one was home."

Laura held up her hand as if the woman were right in front of her rather than a continent away. "Frances please. Stop. We're in Ireland on – well, on personal business. Mr. Steele inherited some property and was injured due to a - feud with the original owner. Yes, he's in the hospital. Yes, it's fairly serious. No, he's not dead. No, I don't know when we'll be back."

Laura was rather proud how she hadn't completely lied yet. Just withheld the more – intimate details. She took another deep, calming breath.

"And I know there isn't anyone answering the phones at the office. Mildred is here with us. She's been an invaluable help."

Mildred slipped back in, pad of paper in hand.

"Listen Frances, I have to go. We'll go out to dinner when I get back. Give mother a call to let her know everything is fine will you? I don't want to tie up the phones too much in the hospital." Laura didn't need to look at Mildred to see the disapproving look on her face. "Love you. Give my love to Donald and the kids. Bye."

Laura's head sank into her hands as the phone receiver hit its cradle.

"Didn't tell her about the wedding, huh?"

She felt quite the coward. But that really wasn't something she wanted to discuss over the phone. Though, on second thought, at this distance might be the best way to break it to her mother and Frances that she'd not only gotten married but that they hadn't even been invited. "Not over the phone."

Laura lifted her head and motioned to the pad of paper Mildred held in her hands. "What's the damage?"

"Lots of people inquiring about Mr. Steele. A few potential clients."

"Did you return any of them?"

"Not a one."

"We'll have to issue a statement. Who do we know and trust in Los Angeles? We'll give them an exclusive." Laura didn't have to think long before she remembered her favorite radio personalities. "Bud Tyler and Norm Austin at KROT. We'll send it to them."

Mildred flipped the page on her notepad and positioned the pen over it.

* * *

_"Eminent detective Remington Steele is resting comfortably in an Irish hospital after sustaining a gunshot wound inflicted in a crime currently under investigation by the Dublin Metropolitan Police._

_Information is sketchy due to the gag order surrounding those involved but this reporter obtained an exclusive from the Remington Steele agency thanking well wishers and assuring them the crack investigative team will be back to work in no time."_

There was more but Laura knew what it said. She'd written it. At least the initial copy. The accompanying photo was a few years old and she'd have liked to have seen a more recent one but it would have to do. It wasn't as if he had a bad side. The camera loved her Mr. Steele. Always had. She imagined there would be one heck of an uproar as soon as news of their marriage surfaced. If luck was on their side, and it usually wasn't, it wouldn't leak and they would have the chance to issue their own announcement; complete with a picture of the happy couple.

Laura set the newspaper aside and leaned forward to clasp his hand and spoke to him as if he were awake and listening. "That wasn't too bad, I suppose. They reworded our statement. Probably not sensational enough for them, but, it could have been worse." A wry grin twisted her lips into a frown. "They could have found out about the wedding."

She rubbed the soft skin of his hand, careful to avoid the IV line, and squeezed gently once she got to his fingers. "That is an announcement we can work on together." She lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm; held his fingers curled around her cheek. "Because I'll be damned if I have to face my mother and sister alone. If I have to suffer, so do you."

There was no answer, but she didn't expect there to be. Just the whirring and blinking of various pieces of medical equipment she'd learned more about in the last few days than she ever wanted, or needed, to know. "They tell us you're healing but I can't tell the difference."

That wasn't quite true, she admitted to herself when she felt strong enough to shake off the depressing gloom that clung even to her dreams. His coloring was better; not so pale. And the doctors were more encouraged each time they stopped in. They even took out the breathing tube while she was artfully dodging her sister's more pointed questions. So he was expected to wake on his own in a few hours.

An exuberant Mildred popped in and for the hundredth time since this nightmare began, Laura was grateful for the older woman's presence.

"I got it!" Mildred lifted her hand and waved the document.

Laura blinked at her for a moment. There were far too many things Mildred was working on for her to possibly guess which - but then she really took note of the spring in her step, the triumphant look on her face. Her heart did a little wibble. It couldn't be. Not so quickly.

Mildred shuffled forward. "Didn't take long, either. Once I got through the gatekeepers. Secretaries," she snorted, nose in the air. "Evil little bats take it upon themselves to roadblock everything important."

Laura chuckled and didn't even bother to ask any questions or comment on the pot calling out the kettle. Her _secretary_ would get to the answers - eventually.

"That letter Mr. Chalmers wrote really broke through the red tape. I had the British Embassy eating out of my hands by the time I was done." There was a disappointing set to her mouth. "I'm glad the Chief found out before he read it. It was a coward's way out of telling his son the truth."

An astute observation and one in which Laura could not disagree. She'd actually confronted the man and told him the same to his face. Something she now regretted because they had ended up being the last words she'd ever said to him. "So – "

Mildred waved the document in her hand. "With what little information we had, they were able to track down a few baby boys born in Ireland around the right time. One died in infancy, two others whose mothers died went – unnamed."

Laura grinned ruefully. "All that time he spent searching for a name to give me as proof of his commitment and he didn't even have one to give."

"It's not his fault."

Laura smiled at the woman who, even after learning her husband's secret, still defended him with the ferocity of a pit bull over a favorite bone. "No. It's not." She indicated the document. "So what did you come up with?"

"Oh! Right! So – taking what little facts we knew, they duplicated the birth certificate for that unnamed baby boy. Born in Ireland. September 1952. They just added Mr. Chalmers. And, well," she continued with a firm, "his name."

Mildred relinquished the document and Laura admired the official seal. A finger traced over the printed name as Mildred sidled up beside her.

"The name's okay, right? It's what we discussed."

"Mildred." Laura hugged the woman tightly as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. "It's perfect."

"I think the Chief'll be happy, too."

"Deliriously happy. Life is good." The voice was weak, raspy. He cleared his throat and choked back a groan of pain. "Except when I've been shot."

The women whirled fast enough to give themselves whiplash and were greeted by narrowed eyes squinting in the crisp starkness of the room.

"Boss!"

"Mr. Steele!" Laura's startled gasp surprised them all. She was at his side in an instant, clutching at his hand, lips trembling with excitement. Laura leaned in to kiss him gently and she was encouraged when his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.

He didn't speak again, just focused so intently on her that she almost forgot the other woman in the room.

"I'm just gonna-" Mildred patted his hand and backed away.

With difficulty, Laura wrenched her gaze from his. "Mildred, you don't have to-"

"- pick up messages. They're coming in fast and furious now. I'll be back later with updates."

Laura felt a twinge of guilt as Mildred made her escape. They were a team. Both of them as much a part of Mr. Steele's life as the other. But she was grateful the older woman understood the need for their reunion to be private. There was so much she had to say, but for now, she just wanted to look at him; at his mercifully open and beautiful blue eyes - even lowered in apparent misery. They were open and that's what mattered. She clutched his hand between her own.

"Pain?"

Even the faint wave of an IV'd hand didn't escape her scrutiny. "Just a little thing called breathing." The glib response set off warning bells.

"Let me get the doctor."

His grip on her hand prevented her from going far.

The hungry way his eyes swept over her was enough to send a tingle straight down her spine. "Stay."

"You're sure?" She wasn't and she couldn't trust his drug-induced judgment at the moment either. In hopes of steadying her trembling hand, she reached up to touch his cheek, brush back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

"Just sit." He took a deep, unsteady breath. "And tell me what happened?"

Laura frowned. He didn't need to hear about that right now. And she imagined the look on her face gave away her hesitation.

"Do I need to turn on the telly?" He indicated the small box in the corner of the room.

She shot him a defiant look. "I'd like to see you try."

Dramatic to the core, he made motion to get up but gasped the moment he tried to shift even so much as an inch in any direction.

Laura clenched the fingers of her free hand in frustration.

But he didn't give up. "Lauraaa."

She pursed her lips and looked away from that intense gaze, the pouted lips and dimpled cheeks. She raised a finger and tried to appear stern. "That's not always going to work, you know."

He gave her a toothy smile and tugged her closer so that she'd lean forward and give him another kiss. She complied and if her mouth lingered a little long against his, neither complained.

She resumed her seat with a sigh. "Those Miners you fell in with the last time you dealt with the Earl."

"Took exception to my pricey inheritance, did they?"

"The brother of one of the men serving a life sentence thought an assassination would satisfy his desire for revenge."

He took a deep breath, hissed through the pain with clenched teeth. "Came close."

She squeezed his hand. "Too close."

He arched his neck at the document clutched in her hand.

"W'as that?" His words slurred, a clear indication that their discussion was nearly at an end. She'd known his first waking moments would be brief.

Laura glanced down at the birth certificate. "Just a little something you've been looking for." She held it up so he could read it.

"A birth certificate?"

"Yours."

The confused look on his face brought a bright smile to hers.

"You're legal now."

If he only knew what those dimples, when he smiled, did to her insides. "What a - foreign concept."

She watched as he re-focused his eyes a few times to read the officially stamped certificate. Suddenly nervous about making such a deeply personal decision without his input, her heart beat a rapidly uneven tattoo against her ribcage.

"I hope its okay. I wanted to get it before you woke up. We can change the name if you don't-"

The wonder in his eyes when he lifted them to look at her was echoed in the emotionally-laced timber of his voice. "It's me."

She slowly exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and squeezed his hand. "It's you."

How much she missed that familiar quirk of his eyebrow. "Harry?"

She shrugged. Of the four, that was the one she'd agonized over. "It's followed you all this time, I figured there had to be a reason why."

"Remington Daniel Harrison Steele." He said. A test, she figured, to see how it sounded aloud.

She smiled warmly. "It's you."

His eyes fluttered shut and a contented smile spread across his face. She felt the weak squeeze of his fingers in hers as he whispered, "It is."

TBC

* * *

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	5. Chapter 4

**Thanks to Angie for the beta!**

**Chapter 4**

Laura held the soup-filled spoon to her husband's lips and he scowled as he sipped the tepid liquid. Reclining as he was in the bed, he couldn't easily feed himself without tipping over the bowl so she'd decided to help. It was either that or drinking it through a straw – which she was nearly ready to give him.

"Really, Laura, I'm quite capable of feeding myself."

Laura's hackles, on a steady rise throughout the day as he'd stubbornly refused help from everyone, climbed into the stratosphere. He was healing remarkably well for someone who had been shot in the chest but there was no need for him to do everything himself. "You're gaining nothing by being so bullheaded."

"Just doing my best impression of you, darling," he huffed and winced when he crossed his arms across his chest.

In an admitted act of petulance, Laura simply settled the bowl in his hand, dropped in the spoon and stepped away. He was an intelligent man. He knew why she was helping him.

As he cautiously lifted the spoon, Mildred whirled into the room, a look of haughty disdain on her face.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laura noticed her husband settle the trembling hand and bowl back onto his thigh.

"That woman is the most infuriating government employee that I've ever met. And you better believe I've met my fair share." Mildred paced, annoyance more than evident.

In a surprising act of charity, Laura lifted the bowl and held the spoon to her husband's mouth. He took it without complaint after less than a moment's hesitation.

"What woman?" Steele asked after he'd swallowed.

"That hound dog Gladys Lynch."

Laura felt her hard won composure splinter at the mere mention of Lynch's name. Only that woman could surpass her husband in sending her temper from calm to raging in seconds. "What does she want now?"

Exasperation writ in every heavy footfall, Mildred continued, "Insists the Chief won't be allowed back into the country if he remains incommunicado."

Before Laura could inquire, Mildred continued. "And before you ask, she didn't seem to care that the Chief had been shot while on his honeymoon. Implied it was another deception she was gonna to add to the file."

"Send her a copy of his birth certificate and Daniel's obituary." Laura offered her husband another spoonful and he took it with a barely restrained scowl. "That will have to satisfy her until we get home."

"I'm ready now." His attempt to get out of bed was hindered by wires, exhaustion and weakness.

Laura shot him a disapproving frown but stepped back and let him try to have his way. If he fell on his face, it would be his own fault. "You haven't even been conscious a whole day yet." She held the bowl aloft so he wouldn't knock it out of her hands.

Mildred crossed her arms over her chest, set her feet and shot him a glare she usually reserved for an unruly client – or him on his most petulant days. "Not so fast, buster."

He settled in with a dramatic sigh. "I hate hospitals."

"Spent too much time in them, have you?" Laura asked, already knowing the answer. She hated to see him hurt. It happened far too often in their line of work. And he, more than her, had been the beneficiary of more than his fair share.

"Only since I met you."

Laura recoiled as if she'd been slapped but was mollified when he instantly recognized his error and snatched up her hand, an apologetic look in his eyes. Long fingers gently rubbed the soft skin, sending a not entirely unwelcome tingle straight down her spine.

"Imagine you've spent more time in hospital since you met me, too, eh?"

She had to give him props for his attempt at levity. "Oh, a bit."

Laura could see Mildred working out the stalemate, the tension she'd stirred by mentioning their INS investigator.

"I'll hand deliver 'em to her office. No sense in overnighting when I'm flying back tomorrow." Mildred produced another sheet of paper. "The police have their 'i's' dotted and their 't's' crossed so you're free to leave the country whenever the doc releases you."

Laura was impressed by the speed and thoroughness with which the Dublin police had wrapped up their case. "They could teach the LAPD a thing or ten."

"Won't be soon enough as far as I'm concerned." An unvoiced apology swam in his clear blue eyes when he squeezed her hand. Placated for the moment by the genuine remorse for his earlier thoughtless outburst, she settled her hip on the bed.

Those blue eyes danced mischievously and she couldn't hold back a grin when he added, "We have a honeymoon to finish."

In the past, Laura would have been disconcerted to admit the control those intense blue eyes held over her. She wondered at times if he knew their effect and finally concluded that he did and was a master at using it to his advantage. He simply oozed a debonair charm that even the most high class societies lacked and when he turned those smoldering eyes on her in those moments, there was nothing she wouldn't do for him.

It chafed.

Sometimes.

She was Laura Holt, after all, an independent woman who didn't need anyone, especially not a man. For the first time in, well probably ever, she really was looking forward to having nothing to do but enjoy her honeymoon. Learn another side to the man who seemed to have so many. Have that intense gaze, dashing charm and dead sexy voice all to herself for a change.

A stout man in a lab coat, wicked grin on his face, a clear sign he'd overheard their exchange, knocked on the open door to announce himself and walked right in. "Barrin' any complications, I'll be releasin' ya in a week or so but I would advise you visitin' your local doc when you get home to give ya a timeframe on when ya can get back to those," he winked at his patient, "husbandly duties."

Steele's eyes widened and his nose wrinkled in extreme disdain. "We need - permission?"

With herculean effort Laura held back a childish giggle because, after all, she was going to have to suffer right along with him.

* * *

Laura woke to a slight chill and she shifted her head as a sliver of the sunlight slipped through the shades and was currently doing its best to blind her. She rolled over on the narrow cot to make sure he was still there, still breathing, just as she'd done every day for the two and a half weeks. He was still asleep. Relaxed. Healing.

She slipped from the bed and drew the covers up over her shoulders as she curled herself into the chair beside his bed. It was because of his status, both as the new Lord of Ashford castle and renowned American private detective that she had been allowed to sleep in the room with him. She hadn't been any trouble, had stayed out of the way when the doctors and nurses came in to care for him, but she was grateful all the same that they hadn't tried to force her from his side.

Under no circumstances would that have happened.

She reached forward and lightly touched his hand before settling her head on the edge of his bed and closing her eyes.

When she woke again, it was to his fingers smoothing a strand of hair away from her face. She blinked sleepily up at him.

"How long have you been awake?"

"I've eaten, showered and dressed for the day," he said with a jovial grin.

She stared pointedly at his hospital gown.

"I daresay, the wardrobe leaves a lot to be desired." His lips twitched and she leaned forward to give him a morning kiss. He cleared his raspy throat and added. "I mean, a little color. Is that too much to ask?"

The hand closest to her circled low on her hips and drew her onto the bed beside him. He held her there and she felt no compulsion at all to move from that spot as the kiss deepened.

When the need for air parted them, he balanced his forehead against hers. "When can we, as Mildred would say, blow this popsicle joint?"

His sense of humor was one of the things she had always loved about him, even at her most irritated. "You've been spending too much time in her company."

He tilted his head at the wires protruding from various portions of his anatomy. "I'm a captive audience, Laura."

"Well, I'm sure she's grateful to have something to do now that she's back in Los Angeles." She swung her legs onto the bed and snuggled close. They'd been caught sitting like this before and no one but the more stringent of nurses pretended to care.

He took her hand and brushed the tips of his fingers across the smooth skin. If he did that to her scalp, she'd be putty; melted, gooey and malleable to his every whim. Best he not discover all her secrets just yet.

"I've been thinking." His fingers threaded through her hair and she bit her lip to keep the sigh contained.

"Always a worrying sign," she fell silent when the soft, almost hesitant tone registered. She peered at him through her eyelashes and bit her lip at the nervous heat in his gaze. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"We need rings." His voice had that tender quality that always sent electric tingles down her spine.

It took yet another moment to register; the way his fingers brushed delicately across her hand, each time slowing at the bare spot where a wedding band should rest.

She felt herself smile big, her heart melt just a little more, and agreed with a simple nod. "We do."

* * *

Laura sauntered through the door catching her husband as he stared at the ring on his hand. His eyes snapped up and he shot her a sheepish, lopsided grin, embarrassed, it seemed, to have been caught.

She'd done the same, albeit under cover of darkness, and she absolutely couldn't stop twirling it around her finger. She'd noticed him absently doing the same.

As with everything in their married life so far, even the ring selection hadn't been the usual jaunt to a reputable store to pick out the pieces. Instead, he'd insisted the best jeweler in Dublin bring his selection to them. Whether due to his charming personality or simply dropping his name; one that had been through the press ad nauseam in the last few weeks, the owner, escorted by an armed security guard, personally hand carried a large selection for them to peruse from his hospital bed.

It took all of thirty minutes to make their selections and mere hours for the bands to be returned sized and engraved.

She decided to give him the moment without calling him out. Instead, she sidled up to the bed and glanced down at the detailed plans that sat atop the wheeled table resting over his blanketed legs.

"Mikeline decided not to waste any time, did he?"

"And he's already lined up an investor. They won't start the remodel until after we've left." He shoved the table aside and pulled her to sit on the bed with him.

After a lengthy kiss that could have easily become far more heated, Laura leaned away and scrutinized his face; open, inviting, dimples displayed in a characteristic teasing smirk.

"Got my release papers yet?"

"Not yet."

Laura glanced down as his fingers encircled hers and absently toyed with her wedding band. Still difficult for him to bend at any angle, she leaned forward and gave him another kiss that he deepened to such an extent that she had to stop least he get carried away and pop some stitches. When they parted, she snuggled close and glanced down at their twined fingers.

It wasn't often she stared at her ring with him looking on but she shifted it around her finger and held it up for them both to admire. While his was a rather traditional platinum band etched with celtic symbols that represented love and fidelity, hers was far more elaborate.

Light glinted off the centerpiece stone; a pale blue diamond cut into a stylized claddagh setting. Bookended by two white diamonds it fit snugly against an accompanying band into which had been set alternating blue and white diamonds. An engagement and wedding ring all in one.

Where once she would have wished that he'd put his feelings into words she could overanalyze, she'd discovered over the last few weeks that she really didn't need all kinds of flowery declarations of love and commitment. She'd known for a while that he counted deeds the most important representation of love and, while she would never admit it out loud, she was coming around to his way of thinking.

The softness in his voice interrupted her rumination. "It looks good."

She tilted her head up and closed her eyes in expectation of a kiss that didn't come. Instead, he nuzzled his cheek against hers and she tightened her grip on his fingers.

"Thank you for not dying," she breathed in a voice tight with sudden emotion.

His response was swift, whispered. "Thank you for not letting me."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she murmured as her eyes slipped closed and he rained soft little kisses along her cheek, forehead, nose, eyelids. In between gentle nips at her mouth, the words she'd been so afraid to say slipped out without thought, "I love you so much". Realization dawned a split second too late as she felt his mouth cease its slow, tantalizing progress across her cheek.

She inhaled sharply and tensed, uncertain how he would respond to such a sudden, unexpected confession. Especially one so close to his near death experience. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut suddenly regretful for her outburst. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Laura."

She dropped her chin to her chest. Couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Really bad timing, I know."

"Laura."

She resisted when he tried to lift her chin. Her overactive imagination fabricated all the traditional responses that followed such an inconveniently timed admission. "Just forget I said-"

"Be quiet, woman."

She'd only heard that exasperated tone one other time in her life; the lowest she'd ever felt. The night her house had been destroyed. He lifted her chin and she kept her eyes downcast, shamed at the way the revelation had come about and even more embarrassed that she'd been the one to weaken first.

Despite the growing pressure beneath her chin, she stubbornly refused to look at him. A second hand had joined the first but this time it slipped into her hair; pulled her ever closer. His lips gently caressed her cheek, dropped little gentle kisses to the corner of her mouth, weakening her resolve, and then firmly lifted her head.

Her breath caught when their eyes met and she was drawn into the searing heat like a moth to a flame. He slid both hands around her cheeks and brought her mouth into full, breathless contact with his. Absently, she wondered if the position was painful for him to maintain but the concern flew right out of her mind when he coaxed her lips open and kissed her with tender, restrained passion.

When they parted, he whispered so softly against her lips she barely recognized the words. "I do love you, Laura. You have to know that by now." The desperate, tender way he'd said them left no doubt as to their significance. No doubt that he'd said them because he meant to and not simply as an expected reciprocation to her unexpected admission.

She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the sudden flood of tears and gasped into his mouth when his thumbs silently brushed away the few that escaped. "I do," she whispered. Those words carried a double meaning she absently wondered if he would catch. A tremor raced through him and she curled fingers around his shoulders to hang on tightly when his tongue darted into her mouth. The kiss was passionate, meaningful and fulfilling in a way that matched none of their previous encounters.

Far too soon, she found herself bereft of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes lidded with a longing that must have been mirrored in her own eyes. She could feel the tension leave his body as he settled back against the mattress.

Suddenly contemplative, she said, "I've placed a lot of importance on words in the past."

"You have."

She lifted her eyes to his. "You've taught me they're not as important as deeds."

A brilliant smile spread across his face. "I have."

She leaned back and searched his eyes. "But I wanted to say them at least once."

The tenderness in his voice sent tremors racing down her spine. He nuzzled her cheek and whispered, "So did I."

She tilted her head and met his unflinching gaze. Reached up and twined the fingers of her free hand into his hair, tugged his head down so that their lips were mere inches apart. She resisted the urge to repeat the words. There was a time and a place for such declarations. They had already been said, their meaning clear, there was no need to relentlessly obsess.

TBC

* * *

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	6. Chapter 5

**Much thanks to Angie for the beta.**

**Chapter 5**

Steele stood at the bottom of the elaborate staircase and stared up with a look of calculating chagrin. He wasn't quite as steady on his feet as he professed and he leaned heavily on the expertly crafted cane Laura'd insisted he use if he was going to be stubborn and not allow himself to be pushed around in a wheelchair. He had to admit it did give him an elegant stately look, while performing the very important function of keeping him upright.

He turned the full wattage of his smile, dimples and all, on her. "Might be fun to see the inside of a different room this evening. Test out another bed..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively knowing full well he'd never be able to follow through in the unlikely event she actually believed him.

She tilted her head and regarded him with silence and a speculative raised eyebrow.

Rather than admitting defeat, he'd figure a way up that staircase. Somehow. Male pride demanded it. Bloody overrode his common sense. "Nevermind."

"You don't have anything to prove, you know." Her voice was light, her eyes tender but it was a stubborn source of masculine pride that he make it up those steps.

He made it cautiously up the first two and was already winded. "I can make it."

Her voice came from directly behind him. Not the place he'd prefer her to be if he stumbled.

"Would it damage your dignity if I ask a Mikeline to follow us up?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "It might." And then it took his full concentration to put one sluggish foot in front of the other and make it up the staircase without help.

* * *

He melted onto the mattress with an exasperated, exhausted groan. He was more winded and in more pain than he really wanted to admit. But Laura was looking at him in that way she had. The one that told him that she knew he'd been wrong and she knew that he knew that she knew it. He might as well admit it.

"You were right."

Laura simply smiled and drew the blanket up over him. "I know."

"No need to rub it in."

Her voice was soft, soothing. "Never."

If he'd had the energy, he'd have questioned why she was being so uncharacteristically understanding. But he knew she'd dish out the 'I told you so's' as soon as he was well enough to take them. He caught her hand when she finished tucking him in. "Stay."

She pursed her lips and misunderstood. "You need rest."

He'd have laughed if it he wasn't so damn exhausted. "I can rest just fine with you here next to me."

She pinned him with a knowing look. "You're not well enough and you know it."

"Rest. Only." He stressed with a disdainful curl of his lip. "A nearly insurmountable challenge with a beauty such as yourself but I shall overcome with obstinate dedication." He favored her with his most brilliant smile, dimples and all. "I did listen, you know."

When she settled on the edge of the bed and brushed her fingers through his hair, he knew his plea had worked.

"Listening and obeying carry vastly different meanings in Remington Steele's immeasurable vocabulary."

As loathe as he was to admit it, making love to her really was the last thing on his mind. "We haven't slept in this bed together in the entire time we've been here."

"Sleep?" She settled an arm around his shoulders and he nuzzled his cheek against the soft swell of a well-covered breast. It was a testament to how far they'd come that she didn't lean away or try to stop him. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

He blinked up at her with heavily-lidded eyes. "Sadly, that is the only response my traitorous body will obey."

The soft lilt of her laugh was a balm to his aching body as she slowly extricated herself out of his embrace and slipped beneath the blanket on the other side of the bed.

Once comfortable, she gingerly threaded her fingers through his and shifted so that her head lay against his shoulder.

"That's all you get - for now."

His fingers lazily twirled up and down her arm and he brushed a gentle kiss into her hair. He could feel his body relax as his vision narrowed to a sliver of consciousness. Moments before sleep claimed him, he murmured a soft, "It's enough," and tightened his grip on her hand.

When he woke hours later, she was gone.

* * *

"I'm going crazy in here, Laura," an exasperated Steele said from the bed as Laura set a tray with a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table. Her heart was racing. And not in a good way. Every time she walked up those stairs she was reminded of him lying in a pool of his own blood. Life seeping out of him with every beat of his heart.

They were leaving as soon as he was well enough to travel.

She'd book them into first class so he could recline. Maybe they could leave tomorrow.

"You're healing."

But he ignored her and continued on with his, less energetic than usual, tirade. "Crazy. Nuts. Trapped. Like in "_The Poseidon Adventure. Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine , Red Buttons, 20__th__ Century Fox. 1972."_

Her lips twitched as she felt her melancholy mood lift with the mere mention of an old movie. More like his old self. Better. Healing. Jovial. "I don't think there are any bogs in Ireland big enough to sink the whole castle.

"Lauraaa."

She'd grown thick, immune skin over the years but there were some reactions his whining was always guaranteed to get out of her.

"Your incarceration will be over soon."

He shot her the most pathetic look she'd ever seen. So she broke down, balanced a hip on the edge of the bed and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

"Better?"

His eyes slid appraisingly down her well-clothed body before drawing her closer. "Marginally." He dropped a few light, teasing kisses along her cheek, forehead, eyelid, before she pulled away.

"No unneeded exertion," Laura chided when a long-fingered hand trailed down her neck.

His response was a firmly whispered, "It's needed, Laura. It's definitely needed."

She leaned into his arms again and tilted her neck, allowed his lips access to the sensitive skin. "I know," she whispered. Even in the early days of their acquaintance she couldn't remember feeling so - itchy.

She settled onto the bed and he grunted in pain when he tried shift to his side. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on his chest and held him in place while she rolled over and molded her body against his uninjured side.

His lips were soft and gentle as they coaxed hers apart and they leisurely kissed until, with a reluctant sigh, she shifted away.

"Soon," she whispered when his eyes, darkened with growing passion, focused entirely on her face.

"Not soon enough," his voice was husky, deepened with a desire she felt as keenly as he.

* * *

Cane in hand, Remington and Laura settled into their first class seats. He'd consented to a wheelchair to the boarding gate but insisted the cane would do for the remainder of the walk. Once they reached their seats, he sank gracefully onto his and sighed. He didn't even bother to look at Laura. He was already far too familiar with the 'I told you so' expression.

Instead he kept his eyes closed and grinned when he felt her raise the arm rest and slip her hand into his. He turned his head and accepted a gentle kiss.

A flight attendant stopped by and asked about drinks.

Steele's eyes popped open with an energy he didn't quite feel. "Champagne, my good lass. Thank you. Thank you. We're celebrating."

Laura shook her head disapprovingly. One little glass wouldn't hurt.

"And what are we celebrating?"

"The end of our honeymoon, of course."

"Of course."

He could see the nuance was lost on her.

"The sooner we get home, the sooner I can -" He wiggled his eyebrows in the most disgustingly dirty tango he could manage. "Get back to my 'husbandly duties.'"

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and chuckled softly. "You have been very neglectful, Mr. Steele."

The heat in her tone was positively lascivious and he tugged gently at his collar, shifted restlessly in his seat. "Oh, I intend to rectify that just as soon as-"

"The doctor clears you for - vigorous activity?"

He wasn't sure how she could look so innocent but act so appealingly salacious. "Oh it will be vigorous. Very vigorous. I assure you."

* * *

Despite a childish eagerness at the thought of finally sharing his Rossmore apartment's large bed, Laura had more than a few misgivings about her decision to come home so soon after her husband's release from the hospital.

As much as he'd tried to hide it behind wandering fingers and innuendo-laced words, she could see the exhaustion etched into his ashen face. He'd been unusually quiet for hours now and she knew, despite her best efforts, that he hadn't been comfortable in the spacious first class seat. She even regretted allowing him his traditional champagne toast.

Beside them, Fred held their bags, and hung back to let them precede him as the elevator door swished open at the fifth floor.

Just as they stepped out, the stiff-backed Gladys Lynch glanced up at them from where she stood in front of apartment A.

Laura's jaw tightened and she fought the urge to grind her teeth as they stepped out of the elevator and approached. She already had her key out and in the lock before her husband seemed to notice their uninvited guest.

Before she could force a smile on her face and greet their guest, her husband beat her to it. "Always good to see you, Ms. Lynch!"

"I doubt that."

Laura shoved open the door and waved Fred inside where he promptly deposited the bags.

"Thank you, Fred. I'll see you tomorrow."

Fred nodded and Laura was envious of his ability to escape.

"Your secretary mentioned you'd be arriving today so I wanted to get a jump start on the interview."

Laura's smile tightened. "I'll have to – thank Mildred for her attention to detail."

"What interview?" Steele asked as Laura guided him inside to the couch.

"Perhaps your secretary didn't tell you that I've been trying to set up an appointment for weeks. But you'd - mysteriously disappeared."

She checked him over but he waved her off with a very unsteady hand. "My husband was shot while on our honeymoon. Answering a summons from the INS was the last thing on my mind."

"Clearly."

Laura's ire grew. "If you'd like to look around, you'll find the place unchanged from the last time you were here. We haven't been home in weeks."

"But we have all kinds of additions to make to the place," Steele said quickly, his jovial smile not reaching his eyes when he looked at her for confirmation. "There's plenty of room for those little crystals you like so much, darling, and that foamy bubble bath." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "There's even space for your razor in the soap dish."

"Sounds like the makings of a perfectly manufactured picture of domestic bliss."

Laura settled so close to him on the couch that their thighs touched. And when she clasped their joined hands in her lap, she wasn't surprised to feel his grip weaker than normal.

Through gritted teeth, Laura asked, "What can we do for you today, Ms. Lynch? We've just come off a very long flight and as you can see my husband is exhausted." She silenced his attempted protest with a firm look.

Lynch barreled on, uncaring. "The investigation of your questionable marriage is ongoing and as such you will be required to meet with me on a regular basis before a resolution to your case can be determined."

"Of course. Of course." Steele said a bit too quickly for Laura's comfort. "We pride ourselves in working splendidly with all government agencies."

"I understand you had three honeymoons?" Lynch asked, an air of disbelief in her tone. "Mexico, London and - Ireland?"

"Our original intent was to honeymoon in Mexico but we got caught up in a case, solved it and then came straight home." Laura answered as succinctly as possible.

"And you took one photo." Lynch held it up by the dog-eared corner.

"The case interrupted our honeymoon bliss," Steele said as his grip on Laura's hand tightened.

"And London?"

"Another case. Treason. Spies. The CIA. Scotland Yard. KGB. All very hush hush."

"And still no photos."

The woman was like a pit bull with a bone.

"And then Ireland."

"I inherited a castle, you see." His exhausted smile was genuine, proud. "And we trotted off to tour my new holdings."

Laura picked up from where he left off. "From London we traveled to Ireland - to continue our interrupted honeymoon."

"And the case followed us," he added with a forced smile.

"Not a single photo."

"Mr. S - Remington was shot before we had a chance to enjoy what remained of our honeymoon."

"Yes I have that in the report I received from your secretary when you were - unreachable." She held up a disconcertingly thick file. "And do you intend on a fourth honeymoon?"

Steele's grip on her hand tightened again and she could feel his tightly controlled temper begin to fray. "We plan to honeymoon right here. Safer, you see."

Laura turned her nose up, a defiant look in her eyes. "And those are photos not appropriate to share."

With as exhausted as he appeared, she was impressed that he managed to affect a lascivious smirk.

"I see."

The way his fingers loosened to caress the skin on the back of her hand was positively indecent. "We've had a round of nasty luck, 'ol girl but we intend to make up for it, don't we?" His lips skimmed across her cheek. He was wiped and she knew it. Knew by his weak grip on her hands and the way his mouth lingered unmoving a bit too long against her cheek.

Lynch's mouth flattened into a firm line and she clasped her hands atop the closed folder. "Your marriage is a fake. All evidence I have points to that fact. And yet you still insist on perpetrating this farce?"

Laura's posture changed and her eyes hardened. Forget _his_ temper. _Hers_ had reached the boiling point. How dare this woman ambush them the moment they landed on US soil? She was a citizen of the United States and didn't deserve to be treated like this. She'd file a complaint when she'd had a chance to clear her head. But first, the bulldog needed to be silenced, once and for all.

"Ms. Lynch, I love my husband. And he loves me. We may not have exactly had a conventional wedding - or honeymoon, but it doesn't make _those_ facts any less true."

Stony silence descended and Laura narrowed her eyes; a dare that Ms. Lynch decided was wise to ignore. She stood suddenly, gathered her paperwork, and glared at the couple. "I will set up another interview in a month's time. Please take great care to attend."

"We'll be sure to do that." Laura leapt off the couch and swung open the door so the woman could exit. It was all she could do not to slam it behind her.

When Laura returned, she noticed her husband's entire body had relaxed into the cushions and his head lay against the backrest. Her heart ached for him so she fetched a glass of water and returned with some pills. When she dropped them into his hand, his head lolled toward her. He didn't even attempt to smile.

"Are you sure we can't just retire to a remote island in the middle of no where?" He took her hand, brushed a kiss across it. "Live out an uninterruptible honeymoon. You. Me. Clear blue skies. Exclusive beach." His eyes turned intense for a split second. "And nothing else."

Laura sat down beside him. "Other than an occasional wire where we send the indomitable Gladys Lynch her damned pictures."

He twined his fingers through her hair and drew her around to face him. He nipped gently at her lips, cheek, jaw, neck, before hovering once more over her mouth. "_Those_ pictures are for my eyes only, luv."

She returned his teasing grin with one of her own. "They better be."

He leaned back against the couch with a wince and drew her back against him. "So what is this about a new case?"

"We'll talk about it later." She stood and pulled him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"I only wish I had the energy to take advantage of your eagerness."

* * *

Steele lay propped up in the king size bed, forlornly staring at the empty space beside him. If he hadn't been so knackered by the long flight from Ireland and Gladys Lynch's ill timed visit, they might have had a memorable first night in this bed.

Instead, he'd fallen asleep before his head hit the pillow. And when he'd woken, his always dutiful wife had already risen for the day.

"Laura?!"

She popped her head out of the bathroom, tendrils of damp hair framing her face. "What is it?"

He scowled at the robe that covered nearly every inch of her freshly scrubbed skin. That it was his robe mollified him a bit. "I'm going in with you."

She rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the bathroom. He tried to get out of bed but winced when stitches and underused muscles pulled uncomfortably. When he finally dragged himself up he rolled his eyes and started shedding clothes, letting them fall wherever he dropped them. Clad in just his underwear, he slid open the closet and selected his wardrobe for the day.

Fresh steam rolled out of the bathroom as Laura exited, fully dressed, and gave him a surprised once over. "You need to rest."

He defensively crossed his arms. "I've never been so eager to get out of bed in my life."

"I'll leave some paperwork on the table if you're that determined to-"

He pinned her with a look. "I'm not an invalid."

"I didn't say you were."

"So then you can wait while I wash up and join you." He walked as steadily into the bathroom as he could manage.

It took far longer than he anticipated to bathe and he fully expected to find her gone when he exited the bathroom buttoning a deep blue dress shirt.

She was gone but so was the trail of clothing he'd left on the floor in his haste to get to the shower. With a raised eyebrow, he exited the bedroom to find her sitting at the dining room table, a freshly delivered breakfast of bagels, donuts and tea waiting for him while she read the morning paper.

He left his shirt unbuttoned, slid his fingers around her neck and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek. "I'm much better, you know."

She brushed an errant lock of hair off his forehead and shifted so that his mouth met hers. After a few slow, languid kisses, she pulled away. "Doctor's orders, Mr. Steele."

The woman was torturing him. Plain and simple. "You really insist on me getting a doctor's note to make love to my wife?"

Her eyes turned somber. "You almost died."

He shifted restlessly. His chest wasn't the only thing that ached. "I'm most definitely not dead."

She stood, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

He sighed dramatically. "I'm probably the only man in the world who has been married for a month and still hasn't-"

Her mouth on his neck silenced his protest.

"If you're very good today, maybe we'll – experiment tonight."

His mouth went dry as she smiled at him in a delightfully rebellious way.

With two eyes on this new case instead of one, he was confident it would be resolved before nightfall. Then he could spend all night eagerly exploring his wife's newly uninhibited side.

TBC

* * *

Do you like it? Do you hate it? Leave a review and let me know. I answer them if you've signed in!


	7. Chapter 6

**Thanks to Angie for the beta!**

**Chapter 6**

An exhausted Laura tiptoed around the darkened apartment having arrived far later than she'd intended. She'd sent Remington - she winced because using that name was taking some getting used to - home much earlier. The pallid tinge to his skin, exhausted glaze to his eyes and growing irritability were but three reasons he'd been wise enough not to question. And she'd only relegated him to paperwork, not something he enjoyed on a healthy day, while she began the legwork needed to solve this newest case.

But it had taken on a life of its own and Laura had spent all evening trying to track down leads which might locate the frantic husband's missing wife and infant son.

When she slipped into bed with a deep yawn, she tensed as a long-fingered hand curled around her waist and pulled her close.

"Any leads?" His voice was raspy.

She relaxed after a long moment and rolled onto her side, snuggling closer. Her body ached. Her eyes hurt. All she wanted to do was sleep. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Laura."

His arm tightened and she rested her head on his shoulder. He was healing well but she knew there was still pain when any firm pressure was placed on his chest. Too many times he'd attempted to lie on his side with his arm around her only to give up because it hurt too much. Eventually, she simply rolled him onto his back and settled herself against his side.

"I can't find them. They just - vanished." She leaned forward and kissed a lightly stubbled cheek. "Mr. Abalian is beside himself. And he's paying the agency a small fortune to find them. I hate not having anything good to report."

"Let me help."

"The doctor said -"

"No sex. Ridiculous, by the way. I feel fine." He hugged her close. The hand at her shoulder trailed a teasing path as far down her arm as it could reach. She curled her fingers around his when they met at his stomach.

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. The itch was growing unbearable especially when he wore only pajama bottoms to bed. The heat that radiated off his bare skin drew her like a moth to a flame. She was just as ready as he to disregard the doctor's 'suggestion'.

The strain in his voice was evident. "But that's not what I meant."

"If you think you'll be okay tomorrow-"

"I made it through half the day."

"I'm glad you did." She had missed him after she'd sent him home. They'd worked as a team for a long time now and she really did relish his contributions, no matter how unorthodox they could sometimes be.

And his mere presence at the agency calmed and invigorated her more than she'd previously been prepared to admit. His voice, that tone he reserved just for the privacy of their offices, where she could easily imagine what lay beneath the fine tailored exterior and even that haughty demeanor he reserved for clients; she hadn't realized how much she'd come to enjoy, depend on him even, until he wasn't there.

It was ridiculous. He'd only been out of the office for the afternoon. She justified her reaction by convincing herself she was just worried about his health.

Despite the feathered skim of his fingers against her shoulder, her eyes drooped and her body relaxed even further into his embrace. A smile slanted across her face when she felt his lips ghost over hers in a goodnight kiss.

* * *

By the time noon came around, he was anxious, frustrated – and sore. Papers and files littered his desk and he scowled at a folder in his hand.

The door between their offices clicked open and he noticed Laura poke her head in and scan the unusually cluttered scene with a critical eye.

"This case is - perplexing to say the least." He brushed a frustrated hand through his mussed hair and leaned back to look at her. The motion caused a twinge in his chest that he covered with a hopeful, "Lunch?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you so buried in paperwork." She didn't bother to keep the amused grin off her face.

"Leads, dead ends, statements from the maid, doorman, driver, friends, neighbors," he shuffled a file from one spot on his desk to another. "And yes you have - when you _conveniently_ forgot to tell me you were training for a triathlon." His eyes narrowed but there was no malice in the tone. "You can't possibly have forgotten that."

The phone rang and he pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. Interrupted. Again. He snatched it from its cradle. "Yes, Mildred?"

He held the phone out as if it would bite him and glanced at Laura with pity. "Your sister. Again. Shall Mildred tell her you're indisposed?"

He would have laughed if not for the horrified expression on Laura's face. "Yes. Yes. Tell her we're working on a case. Very important. Can't talk about it. Have no time."

He waved his hand to stop the flood of excuses. "Mildred, tell her Mrs. Steele is not in and you'll give her the message." He replaced the phone and crossed his arms, gently, over his chest.

A harried Laura met his reproachful gaze. "Oh don't look at me that way. We don't have time."

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Since when don't you have time for your sister?"

Exasperated with a little sheepish thrown in for good measure, she hissed, "Since I got married and didn't tell her!"

He tried, and failed, to keep the surprised look off his face. "Laura…"

Defeated, she sank into the chair opposite his desk. "I didn't know how."

"That sounds ominously like you didn't tell her but she found out anyway." He shifted in his chair enough to lean forward without more than a twinge of pain.

"Amy Fogleson knew she was stirring up a hornets nest when she called my sister for confirmation because she couldn't get anything out of Mildred. She didn't even bother trying to get a statement out of you – or me." Laura scowled, the words rolling off her tongue like a litany of excuses. "Whatever did you do to that woman? She's like a bloodhound on a scent."

Steele muttered under his breath. The ambitious Spotlight News anchor had apparently not given up her crusade to unearth dirt on the mysterious Remington Steele. He'd have to pay her a visit. Sooner rather than later. "She hasn't run the story yet?"

"We'd be flooded with phone calls wanting confirmation if she had."

Steele thought for a moment and then clasped his hands, startling his pacing wife. "Well then, let's give her a scoop."

"What?"

"Mend some fences, so to speak."

"I'd rather crack one over her skull."

"Now, Laura, she's just trying to chase down a story, confirm a rumor," he trailed off noticing that humor was not going to temper his wife's ire. "I could pay her a visit."

"I need you on this case."

"More than you need to keep our marriage a secret from your family?"

Laura dropped her face into her hands. Her voice muffled, she managed yet another excuse. "The fee from this case alone will pay our expenses for the rest of the year…"

"So when we've solved this case, I'll whip up a gourmet meal and we'll break the news to them in person."

The horrified look on her face would have been funny if he hadn't been stung by the nagging feeling that she just didn't _want_ to tell her family. "Laura…"

"We're too busy right now."

"Right."

She blurted out the rest in a barely coherent string of words that left no breath between them. "And – I-just-didn't-know-how-to-admit-that-I-got-married-and-didn't-even-invite-my-family, okay?"

It stung, but he did understand. She wasn't overly close to her family, but they would be hurt nonetheless to not have been invited. It wasn't as if Laura could mollify them by revealing the truth.

"We'll just invite them to dinner and-"

"Not until you're better."

He struggled to maintain a calm, neutral expression. "I'm capable of cooking a meal for your family, Laura."

Her suggestive glance instantly caused blood to rush south. "That's _not_ what I meant."

He gifted her with the full wattage of his dimpled smile. "You think the fallout will somehow prevent us from consummating this marriage?" He rounded his desk and pulled her into his arms with a well-placed hand at her hip. Long, talented fingers slipped into her hair and effortlessly brought her mouth within centimeters of his. "Not a chance, darling. Not a bloody chance."

When their lips met, she melted into his embrace with a relieved sigh and he wrapped both arms around her to keep them both upright. When they parted, his eyes danced with expectation. "Let's solve this case, eh?"

Glassy eyes cleared and she sank into a chair. "I'm at a loss."

"Why don't I feel out some of the more - seedier parts of the city?"

Laura frowned and he could see the gears whirring behind her intelligent eyes. "Mr. Abalian hasn't given me any indication that he thought she'd been kidnapped." She began to pace again. He kept silent, waiting for her to catch his meaning. "There's been no ransom." Suddenly, she whirled, meaning understood. "You think she ran away?"

"I do."

"Why?" She pursed her lips in that way he found so irresistible. "There's no evidence that suggests-"

"That's exactly why. There's no evidence."

She shifted her weight, rested a hand on her hip and looked at him expectantly.

"What?"

"I'm waiting for a movie reference."

Steele searched his seemingly endless repertoire of celluloid knowledge. "Hmm. _Woman on the Run. Ann Sheridan, Dennis O'Keefe, Universal Pictures 1950_."

Laura snapped her fingers. "I know that one!" Her lips pursed in confusion. "But that isn't relevant. A man runs away because he's the eyewitness to a murder."

"Very good, Laura." He didn't even try to contain his pride. "But the wife suspects the real reason for him running is because of a troubled marriage."

"It's a stretch."

He smirked. "Aren't they all?"

* * *

When Laura walked back into his office at closing time, Steele was on the phone. He waved her in as the call concluded.

"Any luck?" She asked as she rested a hip against his desk.

He glanced at the notes he'd scribbled on various pieces of available paper. "Of a sort."

She extended her arms in exasperation. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"She's gone to Barcelona."

"Spain?"

"And not via the normal route."

Laura glanced down at his haphazardly scribbled notes. "Translate, please?"

"She's gone by boat."

She crossed her arms. "And by boat I assume you don't mean a luxury cruise liner."

He scrubbed his hands across his face and they fell to reveal a suggestive dimpled grin. "Now that would be the perfect way to honeymoon."

Laura stared at him. "What was Mexico?"

He was insulted that she even considered that a honeymoon. "Crowded."

"Ireland?"

He winced and rubbed his chest. "Painful." He stood and drew her into his arms, wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Spain. Third time's the charm?"

She tilted her head to receive his kiss and clung to him as he fit her soft curves against the hard planes of his body. When they parted, the desire he saw swimming in her eyes could have made a lesser man bend her over the desk and take her right then and there. But that sort of treatment wasn't for a woman of her caliber. She deserved a big bed, room service, candlelight, champagne; all the trimmings that he couldn't arrange in time for the wedding.

There would be time for christening every piece of office furniture later.

She left his arms with questioning, "So by boat you mean …? "

"She hired a smuggler to take her." Which made things more complicated and potentially dangerous.

"Of course she did."

He snatched a printout of Carolina's passport photo off his desk and handed it to her.

Laura's eyes lit on the crucial bit of information it contained. "She's gone home."

Steele smiled. Such a smart woman his wife. "Indeed she has."

She started for her office door. "I'll have Mildred book us two tickets on the next flight. You can fill me in on the way." As an afterthought, she returned, slid her hands up his chest and gave him a lingering kiss filled with promise. "Well done, Mr. Steele."

He stared after her as she slipped back into her office then yanked the phone off its cradle and hastily dialed. He rocked impatiently on his heels until someone answered. "Remington Steele here. I have an appointment for Friday that I simply must reschedule for today." He pursed his lips as the receptionist on the other end attempted to thwart his plans. "Yes, yes, I understand he's booked solid but something has come up. Leaving tonight. Not sure when I'll be back. You understand. So, I _must_ see him tonight." She put him on hold. When she returned, he accepted her apologies with good grace, waited for her to finish, and then added, "He has rounds at Cedars? I can meet him there. Book me in. I don't care what it costs."

* * *

The moment they took their seats, he'd ordered a bottle of the aircraft's finest. There'd been a spring in his step since he arrived and she would have been blind to not see the barely restrained excitement.

"What shall we toast to?" Laura asked. She couldn't put her finger on it but it was there simmering beneath his skin.

The heat in his gaze was unmistakable. "Us."

They twined their arms, as was their custom, and sipped the refreshing bubbly.

He left her to wonder only a moment before he set his flute down and retrieved a folded slip of paper from inside his jacket pocket. His eyes danced mischievously. "Free and clear. Healthy as a horse." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Third time's the charm?"

Laura scrutinized that little slip of paper. "Forged?"

That megawatt smile was enough to melt her most prickly edges. "Nope."

"Bribed, then."

He affected the most affronted look she'd ever seen.

She leaned across the arm rest separating their chairs and gently kissed his cheek. "Your appointment wasn't until Friday."

"Really, Laura. Would I stoop so low?" He flipped open the letter, turned it over and pointed to the messy handwritten scrawl on the back. "Even at my most intoxicated, my handwriting has never been so appallingly illegible."

He was right. It didn't look anything like his elegant penmanship. It was messy and she couldn't even make out a few of the words. Definitely the work of someone in the medical profession.

He pouted prettily and she squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

He settled back in his seat and pulled her close, arm about her shoulders. "That's quite all right, luv. I expect you'll make it up to me. Repeatedly."

The suggestive quirk of his lips and twinkle in his eyes were not the kind of distraction she needed thirty thousand feet up. She pulled her briefcase from beneath the seat in front of her, pulled out their tray tables and spread out the case file.

"So your disreputable man tracked her here. What do we have to go on when we get there?"

"Check in. Hot shower, shag and a kip?" he offered with an eyebrow tango positively dripping with innuendo.

It was going to be a long, long flight. "Mind on the case, Mr. Steele."

Dimples appeared briefly when he pursed his lips and pouted.

She met his gaze with an unflinching one of her own until he dropped his eyes to the open file and muttered, "Spoilsport."

"Have heart, Mr. Steele." She leaned close, her voice a seductive whisper. "The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can embark on that long, long, _long_ awaited third time." She winked at him. "I've heard it's a charm..."

TBC

* * *

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	8. Chapter 7

**Thanks to Angie for the beta.**

**Just 2 more chapters left!**

**Chapter 7**

The stark smell of the sea and the slosh of water lapping at the underside of the docks were little comfort as Laura's eyes darted suspiciously across the damp, uneven wood. The docks that normally bustled during daylight were motionless; and cargo crates stacked haphazardly atop one another gave this far corner of the dockyard an even darker, more eerie look.

A complete contrast to her caution was her husband, unconcerned with skulking through this dank, dingy, dodgy part of the port. He'd been here before, that was clear.

They crept along a nondescript building so worn and dilapidated that it wouldn't have come close to code compliance in the States.

They were on their way to meet with Carlitos; an old friend. Laura didn't ask how they'd met or just how well they knew one another, or even what kind of 'business' they'd conducted together. She trusted her husband would tell her eventually. She wasn't sure she trusted this old friend but that was nothing new; so few of them had been able to meet Laura's exacting moral standards.

The hiss of a feral cat drew them to a halt and they watched as it flattened its scraggly body to the ground and stalked its equally straggly prey across a narrow cobblestone causeway.

"Where are we?" she whispered after the cat trotted off, dead rat dangling from bloody jaws.

"Little used section of the wharf." His eyes darted to and fro, searching for his 'friend'.

Not sure if she really wanted an answer, she asked, "Why here?"

He didn't even look at her. "It's perfectly safe."

She bit back an annoyed growl. "That's not what I asked."

"Carlitos isn't one of my more popular acquaintances."

"Are any of them?" She couldn't bring herself to regret the remark. His association with the seedier parts of foreign cities rivaled those he maintained with the respectable.

His eyes flashed, instantly defensive. "Now, Laura, in our line of work such contacts have proven themselves to be indispensable."

She didn't bother to remind him that he'd had these contacts far longer than they had been in their 'line of work.'

A small pinprick of light flashed in front of them and he swept his arm toward it with a triumphant smirk. They crept over to a series of overturned cargo containers covered in rust and littered with holes. Laura's overactive imagination supplied images of a violent gun battle raging between sea pirates and the Spanish Policia.

A short, squatty man in his fifties ambled out of the shadows and clutched Remington's hand.

"Ah Mick. Good to see ya, hermanito! Been a long time! Where ya been hiding?"

The ease with which her husband slipped into a role and interacted with – well, anyone, would always amaze her.

"Carlitos, good to be seen mate, good to be seen." He pumped his friend's hand hard and pulled Laura forward. "My wife and partner, Laura."

Carlitos reacted the same way she anticipated all his former _mates_ would when discovering he had married. He stared google eyed at her before energetically clasping Remington on the back.

"Madre de Dios what a woman this must be, hermanito! To settle your wandering eye! Never thought it would happen, amigo!"

Laura was amused to see her husband squirm beneath his friend's jovial congratulations. She'd have to ask him for details about that 'wandering eye' later. Much later. Preferably after spending a long, satisfyingly exhausting week in bed.

"Ah. Yes, yes, superb woman, my wife. Keeps me on my toes, she does." He pulled them a bit further into the shadows. "So - what have you got for me?"

"Ah, back to business. Just like Mick. Focused as always."

She gave a little teasing raise of her eyebrows and a firm pat on her husband's shoulder. "Always so focused. That's our - Mick."

She stood her ground when both men focused on her for a split second.

"Lotsa boarding houses 'round here. Cheap, not so clean, not so safe, but perfect if you be wantin' to disappear."

"You got a list?" Steele asked, eyes darting around the gloomy darkness to ensure their continued privacy.

Carlitos cocked his head and pursed his lips. The look provided all the words necessary. "Wrote 'em all down for ya. Even some that aren't on the register if ya know what I mean." He pulled a crumpled, grease-stained sheet out of a pocket and handed it over. "Even searched a few of 'em meself. Didn't find no girl and baby but found lotsa pretties." He winked in such a salacious way that Laura's stomach roiled.

The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Some of these places - they're brothels?"

"Girls gotta pay for their room and board somehow, don't they?" he shrugged. "Most of 'em aren't allowed to bring their boys home. No security there to protect 'em, you see."

Steele snatched the sheet out of Carlitos' hand and replaced it with a thick envelope. "You hear anything else, you give me a call." He scanned the paper with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah yeah. You got it, hermanito." Laura's skin crawled as he gave her a slow and thorough once over. "Doin' well for yerself nowadays. Always knew you'd make it. Smart kid. Solid head on yer shoulders. You stay safe now." Before Steele could respond, Carlitos vanished into the balmy Spanish night.

"You'll have to tell me sometime how you two met," Laura said as his hand at her back guided them out of the area.

He scanned the sheet. "Mmm Hmm. Right after the honeymoon."

Her thoughts exactly.

They climbed into their small, unadorned rental car and Laura frowned when she didn't recognize the route back to the hotel.

"Where are we going?"

"The first address isn't far from here."

She was exhausted, dirty and hungry and knew he must be worse off with his still healing injury. But she couldn't be more proud of him and his eagerness to do some legwork.

"There's more to this case than meets the eye."

She understood what he hadn't said. He was worried. Concerned for Carolina and her baby and the trouble that would undoubtedly find them if they were hiding at one of the addresses on that list.

* * *

It was afternoon before they made it back to their hotel, a beachside oasis as far as possible from the seedier side of town they'd thus far seen. Laura knew he was wiped and they were both ravenously hungry. They slumped onto the plush couch and lay there, unmoving.

"I'll order something to eat. You go shower," Laura said from her position beside him but didn't move.

"I'll order, you go shower." Steele said and Laura's head lolled in his direction. His eyes were closed and he was half asleep already. She didn't think he'd be able to make it to the shower, much less stand beneath the spray and bathe himself.

"Okay." With extreme protest from her tired limbs, she leaned over and kissed him before disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returned, she found him sound asleep in the same position she'd left him in - and no service cart.

Revived by the shower, she called room service and ordered a light lunch. No sweet delicacies, no champagne, just solid comfort food that would fill their growling stomachs.

He didn't wake until the room service arrived. And even then he just stared numbly as the cart rolled in. He didn't move until Laura held out a laden plate to him.

"Eat."

He took a deep breath and - closed his eyes.

With an amused quirk of her lips, she slid onto the couch beside him and held a thick, meaty sandwich to his lips. He'd barely swallowed by the time his brain registered his body's ravenous need for food. He gulped down water, tea and milk as well as everything she put in front of him.

"Have enough energy for the shower now?" Laura asked, polishing off a bowl of strawberries.

"Maybe."

"Go, I'll put the cart outside."

"Join me?" His attempt at seduction fell flat when he wobbled on his feet.

"You're in no condition to woo me into bed. Get clean and I'll tuck you in."

"Mmm." He grinned in that conspiratorial way that sent pleasant tingles down her spine and dropped a lingering kiss on her cheek. When he disappeared into the bathroom, she got rid of the cart, then sank onto the bed and closed her eyes.

She didn't wake until she felt the bed dip beneath his weight. As always, she rolled over and snuggled against his side. His arm came around her and she gave him a sleepy smile.

When she woke again, it was dark outside and he was already up and dressed. She yawned.

"What time is it?"

"Time to search some more of these boarding houses." He bent down and gave her a gentle kiss. "There's food on the cart for you."

She ambled out of the room and ate heartily as he finished in the bathroom. If wouldn't take her long to change, it wasn't as if they were going to be visiting a grand museum and eat at a five star gourmet restaurant. There wouldn't be any need to primp.

When she walked out, ready to go, she found him staring out the closed balcony window. She approached and he didn't stir until she rested a hand on his back. His introspective days were few and far between and it unnerved her to see it now.

"What is it?"

"Bad feeling." He didn't elaborate and that made her hair stand on end.

"I hate those."

"Me too." He turned, kissed her gently. Too gently. As if he was holding back. "Let's go." He walked to the door.

She needed more than that. "Tell me."

His hand paused on the knob but he didn't turn around. "Could we finish the case first?"

She went to him, stood close enough to touch but flexed her fingers at her sides. "Your past?"

"This case is enough of a reminder, yes."

That was enough. For now. She lifted a supportive hand to his back. "We'll talk about it later."

* * *

After half a night of searching, they finally found her in a five room half-way house for girls located in the seediest part of town. It was still dark but wouldn't be for much longer.

Laura held up a photo as they watched Carolina, baby sleeping in a sling across her chest, enter the house through a screen door that looked as if it needed a good scrub and a few coats of paint.

"She's got a rich husband, a nice house, a maid. Why come - here?" Laura asked as they watched the tiny window at the front of the house wink on. At least they wouldn't have to search each room to learn which one was hers.

After a moment, a taller, leaner shadow joined her and the two merged in what looked like an embrace.

"Well, I suppose that answers your question," he said with a disappointed huff.

Laura stared, flabbergasted. That Carolina was cheating on her husband hadn't even crossed her mind. He hadn't given her any indication that this could have been a remote possibility. She grasped for an excuse when she really didn't need to. "She must have left someone behind when she got married."

"Did the client happen to mention if the marriage had been arranged?"

Laura shamefully shook her head. "No, and I didn't think to ask."

He clasped his hands together. "Well, case solved. Not exactly the way I was expecting." He sounded as disappointed as she felt. "Let's get back and give Mr. Abalian his news."

Laura stared sadly at the window and the shadows that had long since disappeared. "I suppose you're right."

A few hours later, they found themselves crouched behind dingy trash cans looking all the while like they'd slept in them. They'd chosen the location because it provided a good vantage point with which to spy on the comings and goings of the boarding house. They'd already confirmed Carolina and her baby were inside. Now all they had to do was wait.

Steele glanced disdainfully at the entrance to the building. "I really don't like this kind of work, Laura."

"I know. I don't either." They never took these kinds of cases. If only she'd known… "Mr. Abalian asked us to keep an eye on the place until he gets here."

"It's an eleven hour flight!"

"Then it's a good thing we ate after we made the call, isn't it?" She pulled open a black drawstring bag. "I brought snacks in case you get peckish."

His eyes scanned her face and then swept down her black-clad form. "The only thing I'm peckish for isn't food."

She slid her hand into his and squeezed. He wasn't the only one.

* * *

Hours later, as the sun broke through a cloudy, overcast sky, a limo rolled to a near silent stop. Mr. Abalian, a middle-aged Armenian man flanked by a big, burly body guard, exited the limo and swept into the dilapidated house like he owned the place.

Laura and Steele watched as Carolina was dragged out by the body guard while the baby was firmly clutched in the arms of his father. They exchanged concerned looks but said nothing as they stepped out of the shadows to make certain their client could see them. He did and approached with an energetic smile.

"My thanks to you, Mr. Steele! Good work. You are as good as your reputation." The man pulled out a slip of paper. "A bonus to our original agreed upon fee for locating my wife and son so quickly."

Laura tilted her head over her husband's arm and her eyes widened when she noticed the amount.

Steele whistled in appreciation but she noticed the tight smile he reserved for their client. "Thank you, my good man. Thank you. Pleasure to be of service."

No more words exchanged, Laura squinted as the man walked away, slipped into his limo and disappeared into the hazy morning.

Suddenly, Steele yanked his dirty and stained shirt off to reveal a clean one beneath it. "Let's go." He tossed it into the offending trash bin.

Laura scanned the area. "Where?"

"To follow him."

"What? Why?" His sharp, jerky movements were starting to worry her.

They quickly discarded their 'dirty' clothes inside the bins they'd used as cover and flagged down a taxi.

"Follow that limo, my good man," Steele said to the driver as he held out a generous tip. "Not too close."

Laura was still confused. "Want to clue me in?"

He distractedly ran his fingers through his already mussed hair and stared out the window. She could just make out the limo in the distance. "There's more to this, Laura. I can't explain how I know."

She pursed her lips and glanced at the slip in his hand. "Maybe we should cash the check first."

He held it up. "It's a wire receipt. It's already been deposited."

She settled next to him and held his hand in her lap. The tension went deep, his muscles coiled and ready. She didn't speak or ask a question. He would elaborate on his plan when he was good and ready.

The taxi followed the limo to a posh hotel in the heart of the city and rolled to a stop across the street.

"Thank you, mate. Well done. Well done." Steele paid the taxi driver and exited curb side. He held the door open for Laura and then tapped his palm on the roof, a signal for the driver to pull away.

The calculated look on his face made Laura wonder what was going on in his head. "You want to tell me now?"

"That's not the behavior of a man who loves his wife."

"He just found out she was cheating on him," Laura countered. Something was wrong here. What had he seen that she'd missed?

"Was she? Do we really know that?"

She suddenly wondered if he was feeling well. "You had the same view I did."

He didn't answer, but the fierce determination in his eyes worried Laura.

"I want to get in there and see for myself he's not mistreating her."

Her hand slid around his wrist to slow him down and when he turned harried eyes on her his behavior was suddenly all so very clear. "You've seen this kind of thing before."

She watched him swallow thickly and glance back at the entrance to the hotel.

He squeezed her hands a little too tightly and then gave them each a quick, tender kiss. But his eyes were as haunted as she'd ever seen them. She already knew he hadn't had a happy childhood. That he'd been bounced around from family to family when they didn't want him, couldn't support him or simply wanted to use an additional body in the house to scam the government. But he'd never spoken in detail about those times.

A tremor raced down her spine and she fervently hoped that he was wrong. For his sake as well as Carolina's.

TBC

* * *

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	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks to Angie for the beta!**

**Chapter 8**

Laura settled the curly ebony wig on her head and rechecked her makeup. When finished, she smoothed her hands down over the short skirt; part of the maid's outfit she wore. When she turned around, she was startled to see her husband, arms crossed, leaning against the door jam.

What surprised her even more was that he didn't crack a single joke about her outfit, sexual or otherwise. Yet another clue that something was bothering him. His silence on the subject was more unnerving that she let on. They left their beachside oasis for the evening and checked into the posh Casa Fuster Hotel, two floors below Natan Abalian's suite, with their plan and disguises already set.

She would replace the evening maid who had been hired to care for the infant and he would deliver room service promptly at eight. They had already ensured that Mr. Abalian would be out of the suite for the evening, drawn to a potentially lucrative business opportunity conveniently set up by Carlitos on Steele's behalf.

It was a good plan and Laura couldn't help but be a little perturbed at the speed and single minded focus with which he'd pulled it all together. If this was how he'd planned heists in the past, and she'd seen for herself a few instances of the man he used to be, she was astonished that he'd so willingly settled into the life of a, by comparison, boring private detective.

"Ready?" he asked but she noticed the longing in the intense blue eyes that slowly scanned her body from head to toe and back again.

She glanced one more time in the mirror. "Ready."

He lifted himself off the door jam and she moved closer to give him a gentle kiss. She wrapped her arms gently around his back as his lips hungrily deepened their connection; the promise of more to come intimately clear.

* * *

Laura waited patiently as the elevator ascended to the top level; presidential suite. In her hands, a silver tray on which sat a chilled pitcher of milk. When the elevator door slid open, the passive look on the burly guard's face turned to a lecherous smirk. Her demeanor firm and unrelenting, she approached the man standing outside the entrance to the suite.

"Llegas tarde," he reprimanded with a stern sneer.

Her spanish was sketchy but she knew tarde meant late. The young maid whose place she'd taken had put up a pretty fight – until they'd paid her three times her normal rate to forget about this particular job.

"Lo siento," she replied with a demure apology and a shy gaze through long, overextended eyelashes.

The guard licked his lips, gave her a lecherous once over that left no doubt as to his intentions when her job was complete - and opened the door.

Once inside the foyer, Laura leaned her back against the wall and exhaled a breath of relief.

She could hear the murmur of a soft voice and as she drew closer, she could see Carolina rocking the sleeping baby in a small bassinet.

When she noticed Laura approach, the young mother glanced up with a desperation that made her heart ache. It wasn't until Laura reached her side that she could see the bruising. She set the tray on the coffee table and approached, hands raised in harmless supplication.

"I'm not here to take him from you," Laura said, her voice soft and soothing. "I want to help."

Carolina stared at her with disbelieving dark eyes. "No one can help me."

"I can."

Dark eyes scanned her with a skeptic gleam. "Why?"

"Because I'm the reason he found you."

Carolina's eyes widened and she snatched a vase off a nearby end table so fast, Laura could only retreat and hope the impact didn't bring in the guard.

But the mother only stepped in front of the bassinet, fingers white where they clutched the glass vase.

"My name is Laura H-ah - Steele." '_And I'm here to rescue you', her silent inner movie voice supplied. Her husband would be proud. _Aloud, she continued_. _ "I'm a private investigator from America who was hired to find you."

"And so you did." The words were full of venom and delivered with such spite that made Laura's skin crawl.

"We didn't realize your situation when we took the case." Laura should have questioned her client more rigorously. She only hoped the apology was sincere enough to get the frightened mother to trust them. "I'm so sorry."

"We?"

"My husband will be taking care of the guard outside any time now."

The vase wavered in the young mother's hand until she finally set it down. "If you found me, someone else will, too."

"My husband has – contacts. He can make sure you disappear."

The door snicked open and Carolina reached for the vase, eyes darting wildly in confusion. When a service cart preceded an immaculately tailored Steele in a server's uniform, Laura shot him a delighted grin.

A dark eyebrow disappeared into his hairline as he glanced between the two women.

"Oh," Laura said quickly, hoping Carolina wouldn't hurl the vase at him. "My husband and partner, Remington Steele."

"We're here to…"

"Rescue her," Laura finished for him.

"_Star Wars. Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Alec Guinness, 20__th__ Century Fox. 1977_." He supplied with a raised eyebrow and customary wink.

The woman stared between the two, confused. But only for a moment. "How can I trust you? Why should I?"

Steele swept a bundled bag of clothing out from beneath the tablecloth that covered the two level service cart and tossed it to Laura.

Hands outstretched in a non-threatening manner, Laura watched as her husband approached the skittish mother. "Our agency did you a disservice. We intend to rectify it."

Laura pulled open the drawstring bag and removed a blond wig, some dark drab clothing that would look more at home on a hobo, and approached Carolina.

"You need to be disguised when we take you out," Laura explained, hoping the young mother would understand. The hotel was high class enough that it had monitoring systems capable of seeing her in the vicinity of the property.

The woman glanced skeptically at the items Laura held and then at Steele.

"I've arranged private transport to get you out of the city immediately," he offered helpfully.

"To where?"

"Safety." Laura put all her determination into that one word.

"And my baby?"

"He will travel with you, of course."

"We must hurry," Laura said as she helped a suddenly compliant Carolina pull the dark, scratchy wool over her chic clothing.

Once done, Carolina looked nothing like herself and her baby had been wrapped in a soft woolen blanket.

Steele motioned beneath the service cart. "Added precaution."

Laura held the bassinet while Carolina situated herself beneath the cart, then settled it carefully in her arms. With one last encouraging smile, Laura allowed her husband to flip over the cloth, obscuring view of what lay beneath.

Laura leaned close. "I'll meet you at the car." He nodded and she trailed him to the foyer where the still unconscious guard lay. The cart rolled effortlessly out the door and Laura shut it behind him. Thinking quickly, she ripped the power cord attached to an elegant lamp out of the wall and bound the guard's arms behind his back with it.

Just as she stood to leave, the door opened to admit a surprised Natan Abalian. He glanced down at his unconscious guard and then leapt for her, hands sliding around her neck before she could dodge out of the way.

* * *

Steele helped Carolina settle into the back of the car and placed the baby carefully on the seat beside her.

"Where is she?" The impatient fear in her voice was difficult to miss.

"She'll be along. She'll be along," he answered with a confidence he didn't feel. But he was a master of disguise and he had no trouble forcing a convincing smile.

He checked his watch. Again. It shouldn't have taken her this long to go through the service entrance. He swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat. If she took too much longer… They'd gone over this and she'd wheedled a promise out of him that if she was delayed, he would leave without her and get Carolina to safety.

But now, faced with the realization that he may have to do exactly that, he wasn't sure if he could. Something or someone had delayed her and his fingers itched to run to her rescue.

"Should we just be sitting here?"

Steele tamped down his growing irritation and smiled tightly.

"We've got a few more minutes."

They did have a backup plan; a reservation at a lower-end hotel across town in the name of Richard and Laura Blaine.

"He'll find me."

It didn't take a private detective to hear to growing panic in her voice. Steele glanced back toward the exit door and clenched his fists. With a reluctant hiss, he slipped into the seat and motioned to Carolina.

"Stay down."

Her head vanished from his rear view mirror. As he drove away, he stared hard into it, wishing to see Laura appear, safe and unharmed.

The door remained closed. And beside it, his discarded server's jacket and service cart.

TBC

* * *

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	10. Chapter 9

At last. The end. Thanks to everyone who followed along!

Thanks to Angie for the beta.

**Chapter 9**

As Laura was slammed up against the wall, her former client's hands at her throat, all she could think about was how grateful she was that her husband had insisted on a disguise. Otherwise, she would have been recognized.

The next thought that crossed her mind as the irate man did his best to choke the life out of her was how she wasn't going let anything stand in the way of consummating her very unconventional marriage. They hadn't waited so long, endured so much, to have it end with her neck being snapped like a twig.

Recalling her self defense training, she delivered a well placed knee to her attacker's groin and he went down with a sharp cry. A trembling hand swiped at her feet but she leapt over it, wrenched open the door and dove into the hallway.

* * *

Steele paced as far as the phone cord would reach and then glared at it when he turned around and stalked back the way he'd come. Laura still hadn't arrived and he was trapped on the phone making getaway arrangements for an abused wife and her infant son rather than our there looking for her. "Yes, yes, excellent. You'll meet her at the dock and take her straight away? Thank you, my good man." He gestured with the hand not holding the phone and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, once the renovations are complete."

Carolina was in the small bathroom nursing her son. A task Steele was infinitely glad she'd decided to undertake in the privacy that room afforded.

"Indeed. I will give her Ladyship your regards. Carolina and her son will arrive tomorrow first thing. Yes. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye. Goodbye." He dropped the phone in its cradle with a heavy sigh and stalked to the window overlooking an ancient, neglected church. Raking his hand through his already mussed hair, he went over the evening in his mind. There wasn't anything he would have done, could have done, differently.

He paid Carolina no mind when she walked out and settled her baby in the bassinet on the narrow bed. When she joined him at the window, he didn't so much as glance at her.

"She has still not returned."

With effort, he controlled the fear in his response. "No."

"You are afraid she was detained."

She wouldn't have been so late otherwise.

He tried to find strength in the surety of his next words. "She can handle herself."

"But you still worry."

"She's my wife." The one and only.

"One day, maybe I will find a love such as yours."

His heart heavy, he offered her a strained smile. "It's worth waiting for."

A noise at the door sent Carolina scampering toward the bathroom with her baby. Steele clutched his fists in a fighting stance – just as a harried Laura burst through.

"Laura!"

Steele took two long strides and enfolded her tightly in his arms. He winced as the muscles in his still-healing chest pulled uncomfortably but he didn't care. She was here. She was safe. Long, sure fingers tilted her head and his mouth descended in a hungry, possessive claim. He didn't care if Carolina had a front and center view.

Laura clung to him, accepting his relieved embrace for a few fleeting moments before pulling away. "Where's-"

Carolina exited the bathroom with an embarrassed smile. "I am glad you have returned."

Steele glanced down at his wife and affected a blasé attitude he most certainly didn't feel. "Yes, what kept you?"

She rolled her eyes at him and he knew she'd seen through his façade. Instead, she turned her attention to the young woman standing in the bathroom doorway. "Your husband walked in just as I was about to leave."

"Oh no!"

Steele was reassured when Laura continued, "He didn't see through the disguise. He noticed his unconscious guard and tried to detain me."

"A foolish decision on his part."

She tugged the wig off her head. "I took a few different modes of transportation to get back here just to make sure he wouldn't be able to follow me."

Steele beamed with pride and resisted the urge to take her in his arms again. Instead she interrupted his joyful reverie with a question.

"Everything ready?"

Back to business. That was his Laura. "All sorted. Carlitos has secured transportation to Dublin."

In a move he would swear she'd picked up from him, one skeptical eyebrow rose above the other. "And Mikeline will be there to pick her up."

It was uncanny how well they could read one another's thoughts. Delight glimmered in his eyes as she quickly put together his previously undisclosed plan.

"Your powers of deduction are as sharp as ever, Laura." He turned to Carolina. "Mikeline will take you to Ashford Castle. They're in the midst of turning the place into a hotel, you see, and need competent help to complete the," he winked at Laura, innuendo clear, 'magical' transformation."

Despite being ignorant of his final plans, Laura took over. "You will be paid, of course, and you'll be free to come and go as you please."

Carolina sank onto the bed, checked the baby asleep in the bassinet. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if –"

"He won't be able to hurt you again," Laura said softly, a firm surety in her tone that even Steele couldn't match.

He dropped his hand to her hip and drew her close, hoping her need for independence in all things wouldn't rear its ugly head. To his delight, she leaned closer, wordlessly encouraging the close contact.

"He was the perfect husband at first," Carolina began slowly, eyes far away. "Took me to nice places, gave me nice things. He wanted a baby so badly. He blamed me for it taking so long. And when I finally got pregnant, everything seemed good again. But when Zareh was born everything changed."

"How so?" Laura asked and Steele winced. He knew this story. He'd lived it.

"I'd given him a son so I was no longer of any use. He tried to take Zareh from me. He would beat me for any little thing. He was planning to leave me in America and take our son back to his homeland. I would never have found him there." Her voice trembled, took on a desperate tone, "I paid a man a lot of money to bring us here."

"That man at the boarding house." It didn't need to be phrased as a question. He already knew the answer.

"You saw him? Oh yes, you would have. You were hired to find me, after all." The young mother smiled ruefully. "Yes. He was going to set false trails for us and arrange for us to disappear."

"You need not go back there," Laura said softly.

"He was there when my husband arrived." She dropped her head, ashamed, "He is not a forgiving man."

"I thought the bruising looked fresh." Laura's gaze was sympathetic.

"He thought I was cheating on him." The young mother's jaw tightened. "I would never do such a thing."

Steele checked his watch and reluctantly squeezed Laura's hip. "Time to go."

While Laura disappeared into the bathroom to finish changing, he pulled a sealed envelope out of his pocket. The baby was quiet as he peered into the bassinet.

"He's always been a quiet boy."

So had he. It was the first thing he could recall. Quiet. Stillness. If no one knew he was there, no one could hurt him.

"Some just know," he said quietly and offered up the envelope. "If you need more, there's a number."

Tears filled her eyes and she embraced him with more ferocity than he would have given credit for such a small slip of a girl. But then Laura stepped out of the bathroom and he was reminded that he was married to such a woman and amazing strength could be hidden in those of all sizes.

Gentle thumbs brushed away her tears and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Mustn't be late."

He held the door open for Laura to precede him and then followed Carolina and her baby out the door. By the end of the evening, she would be sailing off to a safe and secure future for herself and her son.

* * *

Once again, they stood on the decrepit old dock and watched as Carolina and her baby boarded an equally rickety old boat. Steele couldn't completely mask the disgusted look at the sight of the transport his 'old friend' had secured.

A jovial Carlitos clasped Steele on the shoulder. "She'll hold together, hermanito! Don't you fret that pretty little head."

"She better, old man," Steele said with a smirk but the tone was laced with a warning that Carlitos at even his dumbest couldn't miss.

"Safe passage's what you're payin' me for. She'll get there."

Steele pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over. Carlitos snatched it out of his hand and thumbed through the currency.

"The agreed upon sum plus a bonus for ongoing - silence."

"I've forgotten already," Carlitos winked. "Now if you don't mind, we'll be off. Got a delivery to make."

Steele's eyes darkened but Carlitos raised a reassuring hand. "No extra cargo this time." He made a show of crossing himself. "On my word."

"The only cargo you'd better be smuggling is Carolina and her baby, Carlitos." His eyes were hard and his voice had an edge that even caused Laura, who was standing beside him, to glance sharply in his direction.

"My word, hermanito."

"I'll hold you to it."

"I know you will. I haven't forgotten Venice." With a final wave, Carlitos hopped into the boat and cast off the line. They would meet a larger ship out to sea and from there sail on to Dublin.

Steele ignored Laura's questioning look. Venice. Beautiful city. Stunning architecture. Gregarious women. A lively part of his past he was hoping could be discussed later rather than sooner. Damn Carlitos. A man must keep some secrets. Though, as he stepped away from the dock, his feisty slip of a wife at his side, he admitted he had a lifetime more than most.

They watched until the boat disappeared into the evening mist and then made their way back to their nondescript car.

As he opened the passenger door, Laura whirled on him. "Venice?"

Delighted that she responded when long fingers wrapped around her slim waist and pulled her close, he bent and nipped at her lips. "After the honeymoon?" he asked hopefully, eyebrows dancing an innuendo-laced jig.

She tipped her head and he wasn't sure if he should be grateful or afraid that she'd agreed so readily. "After the honeymoon."

* * *

When they returned to their hotel, the beachside, elegant resort poised on the edge of the Mediterranean, Laura pushed all thought of her husband's mysterious past into the back of her mind. Tonight they were going to celebrate; a successful end to a perplexing and emotional case and the end of their unpleasantly enforced celibacy.

Her husband's taste in the finer things could never be questioned and this place was no exception. Furnished in an elegant art nouveau style with a large sitting room and fully stocked bar, she had eyes only for the entrance to the bedroom at the far end of the opulent suite.

But for all the impatience swimming in his eyes, the obvious restraint in his stride, he stopped at the bar and uncorked the waiting bottle of champagne. With a clink of their glasses and a suggestive wink, he toasted, "to us."

She took a sip and nearly moaned as the sweet liquid slipped over her tongue. "To new beginnings."

Those bewitching eyes focused so intently on her that she felt the answering tingle all the way to her toes.

He looped his arm around hers in their customary style and she sipped from his flute, trembled when he leaned down and whispered hotly against her cheek. "Together."

A silent understanding passed between them when he lifted the flute out of her hand and set the two aside. Hand in hand, they walked together to the opposite end of the suite and into the bedroom.

Without preamble, without staring longingly into one another's eyes, they stepped into one another's space. He wrapped delightfully long fingers around her waist while she draped her arms draped casually around his shoulders, head tilted to receive the first gentle, teasing kiss.

As his lips slanted across hers, she found herself yanked tightly up against the hard planes of his body. Coherent thought rapidly vanished as one hand delved into her hair to pull her deeper into his kiss, the other quite daringly sliding down to squeeze her backside.

She couldn't stop the breathy moan that escaped as she could feel the affect the close contact was having on his body. Exploration disintegrated into desperate desire when her fingers deftly slid down the center of his chest, slipping free the buttons along the way.

The sensual tour came to an abrupt halt when her fingers ghosted over the puckered remnants of a mostly healed scar. The very real and tangible reminder of how close she'd come to losing him.

She ended the kiss and forced herself to gaze down, her fingers twitching where they rested against his chest.

Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his and she was comforted by the understanding that swam there. He only offered a small nod of his head and a reassuring smile before pulling her back into his arms and resuming their kiss. Tongues battled, retreated, and advanced, neither having complete control or advantage over the other. All the while busy hands divested one another of suddenly very restrictive clothing.

When the tips of his fingers traced the clearly defined outline of her nipples through her bra, she tugged her mouth from his and sucked in a huge gasp of air.

The smoldering heat in his eyes and the answering, lopsided smirk on his lips sent her hands racing downward to teasingly trace the very solid length and breadth of him. She'd be damned if she gave him control so easily.

When his hands quickly circled her wrists and yanked them away, she returned his smirk with a smug one of her own.

"There'll be none of that." His voice strained and raspy.

She understood but couldn't resist the innuendo-laced wink. "Not this time anyway."

She took his hand and led him to the bed, stepped away and removed the remainder of her clothing. Heat suffused her cheeks but the way his eyes darkened as they traveled over her was enough of an encouraging response.

When he reached for her, the phone rang and the furious glare that he shot at it would have reaped an instant guffaw had they been watching this scene unfold on his couch in front of the television.

Instead, he shed his shirt and pulled her into his arms, determined, it seemed, to ignore the shrill ring.

After a few moments, she tore her mouth from his and rested her forehead against his chest.

"No."

An arm tightened around her and he tilted her chin up with a long finger. His eyes, narrowed with sluggish acceptance, searched hers for permission to continue. But she shook her head, swept his shirt off the floor and shrugged into it before making her way to the phone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him anxiously brush a hand through his hair.

"Yes?" The annoyed tone didn't even register until after she'd answered.

"Hey Mrs. S, er, Laura."

No. No. No. No. Their meticulous secretary was _not_ going to interrupt them again. Not this time. Through gritted teeth, Laura inquired, "Mildred."

She could see her husband firmly shake his head and was at her side in an instant.

"Mr. Abalian has been calling relentlessly-"

Steele lifted the phone out of her hand and growled into it. "Now is not a good time, Mildred."

He tilted the phone so that she could hear the conversation.

There was a split second's hesitation as Mildred followed the change. "Oh, hi Chief. How's Spain?"

Laura flushed under his suddenly intense scrutiny. "Getting better by the second – until the phone rang."

"Oh, sorry, Chief. But Mr. Abalian has been calling non-stop!"

Laura shook her head quickly to get his attention but was too late.

"What for? We solved his case."

She winced. He'd done it now. Opened the floodgates.

"His wife is apparently gone again."

"How is that our problem?"

"He wants to hire the agency to find her."

Laura shook her head in vehement refusal and was relieved when her husband raised a calming hand and nodded his agreement.

"Again?" The surprise he infused into his voice was impressive.

"Yes, Chief."

"Tell him no." She didn't even bristle when he didn't look to her for agreement.

"Chief…"

"We've got other cases, Mildred."

"No we don't. You said to put everyone on hold until you – oh, right."

Pride filled her as the impatience laced his voice. "Now if that's all…"

But Mildred was having none of his attempts to get her off the phone. "He offered to pay triple the last fee."

Leave it to Mildred to think about the good of the agency.

The lure of one case being able to pay so many of their expenses was a captivating one. But she would not sacrifice her morals to do it or the safety and well-being of a mother and her child.

This time, he did look at her. And she shook her head firmly. "We're unreachable, Mildred."

Mildred's tone was hesitant. "Yes, Chief. You're sure? It's a lot of money…"

An uncomfortable silence fell and Laura realized he was actually considering the request. Her ire grew.

"Tell him we'll get back to him in the morning with an answer. Don't call us. We'll call you." He quickly hung up andraised his hands in a recognizable mollifying gesture he'd used countless times.

"Now Laura..."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You should have just said no."

"We must be diplomatic-"

She leapt off the bed and stood over him, her attempt at intimidation lacked a certain factor wearing only his unfastened shirt. "Diplomatic!" She fumbled with the bottom buttons when his eyes wandered downward. "That man beat his wife. How can you sit there and say that we'll call him in the morning with our decision?" She paced away from him, angry. "We don't need all night to come to a decision. I'm going to make it right now. No. We will not be taking his case." Her temper frayed and she lit into him, all the while knowing in the rational part of her mind that he'd said or done nothing really to deserve her temper. He'd given an appropriately professional response.

When she whirled on him, she nearly swallowed her tongue. He simply sat there, hands folded in his lap, waiting for her to stop.

She took a deep breath and waited. An apology hung unsaid on her lips as he stood and cautiously approached her, his eyes hesitant. Without heels, she was significantly shorter and she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

Long fingers slid into her hair and his palms cupped her cheeks. Her hands rested lightly on his chest and as his mouth hovered over hers, he whispered, "There's no way in hell I would agree to take this case. You have my word." He tugged her closer, clearly eager to resume their previous explorations. "And Remington Steele's word is his bond."

She smiled big and watched his eyes darken with resumed arousal when her fingers slid down his chest to expertly unfasten his belt. Without preamble, his pants hit the carpeted floor and her borrowed shirt followed. Determined hands skimmed across heated skin and slowly, she allowed herself to be lowered to the bed.

For a brief introspective moment, and before his hot, wet mouth wiped all coherent thought from her mind, she finally understood what had stubbornly eluded her for so long. What had driven them apart and together and apart again so many frustrating times she'd foolishly thought they would never work it out.

She would never have a conventional relationship with this man. With their strong, powerful personalities, their lives would be filled with a passion born of two very independent souls who found one another in the unlikeliest of places.

Over a set of precious gems she had been hired to protect.

Rare, expensive baubles he intended to steal.

The End

* * *

**Author's Note**: I didn't expect this to be so lengthy but the characters ended up having a lot to say. It was originally meant to be an 'interrupted' fic but turned into a much more lengthy 80 pages with a meddlesome plot when all was written, beta'd and edited.

Heartfelt thanks go to Angie whose critical comments pinpointed errors and inconsistencies that I'm glad never saw the light of day.

If you've enjoyed, or even disliked, this story, leave a review and let me know. I answer them if you sign in!


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